


Where We Come Alive

by TinyPhantomSalad (AlexanderOfAlexandria)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: A few time skips, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Obi-Wan Kenobi, BAMF Padmé Amidala, Clone Rights, Clone Wars, Darth Maul Lives, Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, M/M, More tags to be added, OR IS IT, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a senator, Obi-Wan has a lot of enemies, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Pining, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Rating will change, Rivalry, Sad Obi-Wan Kenobi, Senator Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Force Ships It, The force literally said 'oh honey y'all fucked up' and yeeted him back, The senate is corrupt, Unrequited Crush, Young Anakin Skywalker, but spicy rivaly, ex-jedi obi-wan kenobi, for a smidge, i miss my outline, its not dead i just ignore it, no beta we die like my hope for the sequels, this is really complicated and i hate myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 67,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24356575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexanderOfAlexandria/pseuds/TinyPhantomSalad
Summary: Dying felt a lot like falling.Of course he’d read theories about what it might truly be like; some people said that it would be like floating, others like the slow dissipation of steam. Obi-Wan was falling.It wasn’t the type of falling he would have first thought of, however. It was like walking down the stairs in the dark, and thinking there’s one less stair than there is: jarring at first- the unexpectedness making you seize up; then the fast swoop of your stomach making you dizzy; and finally what he expected to be the punched out relief as the adrenaline left his system, letting himself relax into the fall, leaving a calm shock draped over his shoulders like a blanket.He never touched that cold relief. He just kept falling, and falling, and falling.When his back finally hit the ground, Obi-Wan woke up.~In which the Force is not satisfied with the ending, and gives Obi-Wan a second chance to make different choicesThings do not go as expected.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 462
Kudos: 1188





	1. There's No End

**Author's Note:**

> Lol whoops i promised myself I wouldn't start another wip yet here i am- this is my first multichapter obikin fic and these are such different characters to what i usually write so we're gonna learrrrnnnn.  
> I hope you enjoy this first chappo

Part I

Dying felt a lot like falling.

Of course he’d read theories about what it might truly be like; some people said that it would be like floating, others like the slow dissipation of steam. Obi-Wan was falling. 

It wasn’t the type of falling he would have first thought of, however. It was like walking down the stairs in the dark, and thinking there’s one less stair than there is: jarring at first- the unexpectedness making you seize up; then the fast swoop of your stomach making you dizzy; and finally what he expected to be the punched out relief as the adrenaline left his system, letting himself relax into the fall, leaving a calm shock draped over his shoulders like a blanket. 

He never touched that cold relief. He just kept falling, and falling, and falling. 

When his back finally hit the ground, Obi-Wan woke up.

~

There were voices, things that were just vague sensory impressions beyond his consciousness. He didn’t want to open his eyes at first, content with being blissfully ignorant about his surroundings and instead moved his index finger, slowly becoming aware of his limbs- he felt… lighter? Like a droid that had been taken apart and put back together with new wiring. He was on his back, one arm outstretched and hanging off the edge of what he guessed was a bunk, the other was across his stomach and his legs were haphazardly entangled in thin blankets. 

He still didn’t open his eyes, heart pounding dangerously in his chest. Memories flashed across his mind; bright and difficult to make out. He could only remember the feelings- and even then only the strongest ones were met with fragmented images. Obi-Wan drew air into his lungs, and in the far reaches of his mind called back his last and most vivid moments. 

A young man. Anakin. Golden eyes. Fire, flames, the warning thrum of a lightsaber and the sizzling sound of his weapon cutting through flesh. Newborns, Luke, Leia. Tatooine. Anakin, but _not_ Anakin. Not his Anakin. This man was more metal than human, subjected to a fate worse than death. His heart clenched at the memory of his entire being just breaking away from the physical world, the way he’d tensed as his former padawan- former _friend’s_ lightsaber had come so close to his neck.

And falling. He remembered falling.

He remembered _dying._

Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open, scrambling into a sitting position with his hand flying towards the ghost of a lightsaber wound. He could _feel it,_ even though it wasn’t there, he could still feel the heat, the spattering bursts of barely contained energy of the red ‘saber. The strangled cry of Luke Skywalker as he watched. His stomach twisted and he fell from the bunk, landing on his knees with heavy retching, coughing up bile and half-digested food. He scrabbled at the ground for purchase and only just reached the ‘fresher in time to finish unloading whatever was left in his stomach.

His head spun as he leaned back on his knees, gripping the sides of the bowl to ground him as he focused on his breathing. _In, out, in, out, come on Kenobi._ Obi-Wan willed his consciousness back into the present and when he got himself under control he straightened up, looked down at himself, and nearly doubled over again. 

This was not his body. Well, it _was,_ but it _couldn’t_ be, could it? This didn’t make any sense- his thoughts were scrambled like a dodgy transmission and a splitting pain wound itself like a vice around his head. Like two parts of himself were at war with the other, neither becoming dominant enough to overpower and instead forcing them to fuse together.

He shakily got to his feet, startled by how easily he moved- there were no protest from his joints, no ache in his back to make him groan. The ‘fresher mirror showed him a face he hadn’t seen in what felt like _years._ The dimple in his cheek still visible, not covered by a neatly trimmed beard, his eyes brighter and not dulled by age. Obi-Wan touched his face, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over at the sight of a man that hadn’t yet been touched by the corruption of war and betrayal. He reached out to the Force, letting it wash over him comfortingly as his mind stitched itself back into one. He knew himself, but there were places and people and things alongside them he knew were his own memories but… they felt detached, like watching a holovid.

He washed out the acrid taste of vomit from his mouth, grimacing at the taste. Obi-Wan pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, willing away the tension behind them with a long sigh. When he finally opened them he hissed and blinked against the harsh light of the ‘fresher. That was until his eyes caught sight the long braid hanging over his shoulder, several different beads intertwined with it telling him he was reaching his eighteenth life day. A Padawan.

_Qui-Gon._

His body reacted faster than his brain, the phantom discomfort of a body unused to his limbs after years of being old and slow. His heart beat out of his and blood roared in his ears- everything that was happening outside of his tunnel vision was nothing but white noise in the wake of his footsteps. Scrambling out of the fresher, he hardly realised where his feet were taking him before he was in the cockpit, face to face with his master, his _deceased_ master. 

Flashes of a red blade swarmed in his mind and he grinded to a halt. The mountain of a man looked no different to how he remembered him. Obi-Wan held himself back, stunned into silence at the presence of his former master. Stars, _why did it hurt so much to see him?_ He groaned internally- seeing that they were not alone; the young captain and his co-pilot either didn't notice him come barging through- or didn't care enough to pay attention.

“Where are we?” Obi-Wan asked, more than a little shaken by the youthfulness of his voice, the high lilt of a thick Coruscanti accent turned his cheeks pink.

Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow at him, “We’re heading for negotiations still- Are you alright, padawan? You seem…” He paused appraisingly, “...different,” 

He clenched his jaw. They hadn’t arrived at the Trade Federation outpost yet. He hadn’t met Padmé or Anakin yet. That much he knew from the fragmented things he remembered. He was back at the beginning, he realised. The beginning of the end.

“Obi-Wan what’s wrong? Is this because of your bad feeling again?” His master’s voice was concerned, Obi-Wan scrunched his eyes shut, recalibrating and forcing the bile back down his throat. 

He couldn’t tell Qui-Gon what was happening, the Force had reworked time and space just to send him back before it all began. He was here for a reason; to stop Anakin from falling? To reveal Palpatine? Ugh it hurt to think too much about it. He needed time to meditate, time he didn’t have. He looked back at his master, his kind sloping eyes, long greying hair… knowing that he was destined to die it… it didn’t sit right. It was a spanner in the works. A shatterpoint in another world that set Obi-Wan on a course that had led to- well, _this._

“I’m sure I’ll be okay, M-Master.” He choked on the sentiment, having gone so long without saying it. He pushed his anxieties out into the Force, hoping that somehow he could make sense of it later. Qui-Gon didn’t look convinced but didn’t say anything, turning to the captain and telling them to send out the transmission to the Trade Federation. 

Obi-Wan looked down at himself, apparently he’d had the good sense to reappear in his new body while it had clothes on. He loathed to think what would happen if he’d come to halfway through a shower, the thought made him huff out a small laugh- _that certainly would have been an interesting explanation._

He bit his lip; time was tricky, there were points in history- shatterpoints in the Force that marked critical moments in history, changing the pathway of the timeline in its wake. He’d studied them, after Qui-Gon’s death and taking on Anakin as a padawan. It had seemed interesting at the time, _fun_ even. His way of remembering his old master’s love of ancient prophecies and theology. He glanced at the man whose eyes were set on their destination, and he so desperately wanted it to feel like a dream, a small voice in the back of his mind pleading _don’t do this, don’t let me fail again._ He ignored it and schooled his expression; Obi-Wan would _not_ let history repeat itself, he would _not_ watch his master die, he would _not_ let Anakin fall to the dark side and watch his friend succumb to the whim of a Sith.

As they approached the Control Ship he steeled himself.

Obi-Wan would not fail. Not again. 

~

His meditation did not prove as fruitful as he would have liked. The Force whispered in his ear but no matter how much he strained and concentrated he could make out little more than a quiet _wait._ It was frustrating- knowing that there was a reason for this that he didn’t know. The headaches that had felt like a hot vibroblade piercing his skull had dulled to a slow but heavy ache every time he tried to remember too much. But the _feelings_ were ever-present, like the cold touch of a ghost that wouldn’t leave- bone deep bursts of sadness and pain and grief, nostalgia for things he had seen _yesterday._ He recognised people he’d never met before, like knowing that the Queen of Naboo wasn’t truly her, and instead her handmaiden. These epiphanies were helpful as well as annoying, he supposed he could use that.

Meeting Padmé for the first time was far more amusing the second time around. _We must have looked like such fools,_ he thought with a fond smile, knowing full well that his Master’s antics usually didn’t go down well with authority. 

“Where will we be taking refuge?” Padmé asked, her orange dress showing her face well enough for him to see her concern. Obi-Wan smiled, he knew her, he may not remember anything more than feelings of pride, sadness and pain- but he felt he did, and Yoda had taught him to trust his instincts. 

He took a seat next to her in the comfortable galley, “Tatooine.” He said- for a moment he had debated whether or not to choose another planet, eradicating the risk of ever meeting the _Chosen One_ and just avoiding it all. It would be so easy. But then he ran the risk of the Sith finding him first… No. It was best to get him into the care of Qui-Gon. He would be a much better Master for Anakin.

“it’s a small planet where the Queen will be safe and we may get enough parts to fix our ship.” He paused, “your home on Naboo was beautiful,”

Padmé sent him a sideways look, a small smile on her face, “I fear you see right through me, Padawan Kenobi.” Obi-Wan chuckled, “I’m coming with you. I must keep an eye on what happens here…” she threw him another look, “For my Queen.”

This time Obi-Wan laughed properly, in a way that he hadn’t done so for a long time. Padmé was ever the same, he realised, even in his other life he remembered her humour,

“Of course, for the _Queen.”_ He said.

They talked for most of their way to Tatooine, mainly because Obi-Wan wanted to see how much he could remember without agitating his splitting headache, and also that Padmé was good company and they got along greatly. He felt them approaching their destination and anxiety welled within him, no matter how much he tried to release it to the Force it must have shown on his face because Padmé placed a placating hand on his shoulder,

“Are you alright?” She asked, Obi-Wan looked down,

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but I’m sure I will be.”

Before they could say anything more Qui-Gon entered, and Obi-Wan’s trepidation sky-rocketed, with a half-glance at Padmé another vision flooded his mind. The gargling of lava and a desperate plea of _you’re breaking my heart_ reverberating in his ears. He clenched his jaw and forced it back. That would not be their fate.

“Obi-Wan you will stay here-” Qui-Gon said,

“No.” He interrupted, the harshness of his tone surprising even himself, Qui-Gon scowled,

“Excuse me?” 

Obi-Wan blinked and straightened under his master’s intense gaze, “I’m sure the part we need will be difficult to come by-” he slipped easily back into his charming lilt, despite scrambling for an excuse to go with them, “and I am a much better negotiator than you are, if you don’t mind me saying, Master. I’ll be of more help out there with you than I could ever be here.”

Qui-Gon was about to answer when Padmé spoke up: “I believe Padawan Kenobi is right- it will be easier to cover more ground and find the part quicker if we split up.”

Qui-Gon considered them both for a moment, and for the first time Obi-Wan reached out through their training bond, holding back the phantom grief that threatened to burst ranks as he recognised his master’s Force signature. It was calm and at ease, flecked with curiosity and felt like walking into an old archive, _stars_ how he had missed it.. 

“I believe you have me cornered,” the old man smirked “I’m not sure we’ll have enough credits for everything though…”

“We could sell the Queen’s wardrobe,” Obi-Wan said with a mischievous glint in his eye, “though that may not be enough to barter with.”

Padmé narrowed her eyes at him, and she pinched his arm making him squirm, though the small twitch at the corner of her mouth gave her amusement away. 

Qui-Gon chuckled, “Padmé, you’ll come with me… that is if Obi-Wan can handle his own?” He teased, Obi-Wan let out a gasp,

“I can handle myself perfectly well I'll have you know, master.” He tilted his chin up in defiance, making the two others laugh.

They stepped out of the ship and into the blazing heat of the binary suns, it struck him with such painful nostalgia that he almost keeled over again. He shielded his eyes and took in his surroundings- sand blew everywhere and in the distance the rocks glowed a bloody orange in the light. There were minimal clouds in the sky and the suns shone so brightly and so intensely that he struggled to keep his eyes open. Obi-Wan’s gut twisted at the familiarity of it all, faintly recalling another lifetime spent on this planet. 

“I’ll take the East, you take the West.” Qui-Gon said, but Obi-Wan wasn’t listening- instead he was looking out over the dunes, taking in the shadowed silhouette of Mos Espa. He was going to meet Anakin Skywalker for the first time. That was alright, he had a plan… well, the vague formation of one. The thing that had sent him back here must have scrambled up his brain somehow, making his ability to think things through go out the window- he mentally named it the Skywalker effect and was utterly affronted with how fond he felt at the sound of it. He knew what he had to do, something that would be best for all of them in the long run, no matter how much it may hurt in the moment. This was for the greater good.

Obi-Wan swallowed. He had a bad feeling about this.


	2. Fade Into The Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It came from high above and sped towards the ground like a falling star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hEY! I can't believe I actually have a new chapter out so soon lol, all your comments were wonderful and I'm so glad you're liking this story! I intend for Anakin to be young for the first few chapters but there will probably be a time skip  
> then angst.

Anakin Skywalker was a person. He may have been born into a life that would never treat him as one, but he was a _person._ He _meant_ something. That’s what his mother always told him anyway. 

He fiddled with the droid part Watto had tasked him with fixing- there were several wires that needed replacing and the panelling was terrible. He tutted, struggling to pin the wire in place and just giving up for now- Watto wouldn’t be back for another half-hour, probably too busy with his friends playing sabacc. Anakin hopped off the counter where he had been sitting and brushed the sand off his clothes, scowling at the scratchy feeling of it on his skin. His mother had always made sure that he knew who he was, she whispered his name against his hair as she hugged him, reminding him that no matter how badly others treated him he was more than just a slave. 

He climbed up on a box and hauled his little nine-year-old body onto the window ledge, watching as the traders and the pirates walked the streets of Mos Espa. He felt the familiar tugging in his mind as he watched them- plucking stories from their minds like fruit from a tree. He heard the hushed whispers of people across the street, huddled in the alleyways and heads ducked low over cheap Corellian ale. Their stories fascinated him, the stories of the stars and planets and how the galaxy was so much wider than his own little rock. He watched their memories as though they were a holovid, the adventures that these travellers went on were incredible- passing strangers leaving indelible marks on Anakin’s soul, barely quenching his wanderlust for the galaxy.

He could see their lights too- when he concentrated enough- all around them, some were brighter than others; his mother told him it was of the Force, and that it connected all living things together, his mother was full of stories like that, full of hope. Anakin made sure to have hope too, because his mother was always right, always soft-spoken and kind, and told him to have hope no matter what. So he did.

His mother’s light was warm and comforting, no brighter than that of anyone else, but it was stronger, and sometimes he thought he might be able to reach out and touch it. He’d asked her about his own light- because no matter how much he focused on himself he never saw anything akin to what he saw in others. The first time he had mentioned it to her she had looked at him in that way that made him squirm; as if he’d just told her something terrible. She had gotten to her knees and gripped his shoulders saying _It is special, Ani, and you must not speak of it to anyone._ She’d made him promise, right there on their kitchen floor, that he would never show anyone, and never tell anyone what he could see and do.

Anakin didn’t understand it much, but he’d kept his mother’s promise, he hadn never spoken about his abilities. That didn’t stop Watto noticing his reflexes and entering him into podracing. He loved it- he loved the freedom of piloting and the freedom it gave him; he longed for the day that he would have enough money to free his mother, and they could finally escape Tatooine, he’d promised her they’d have a big beautiful ship and they could go wherever they wanted. Where they could be happy.

He picked up his discarded piece of machinery, fiddling with it and letting out a little victory cry as the gears finally shifted into place. His smile faltered however, and for a moment his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell backwards, giving into an inky blackness that welcomed him with open arms.

There was no light, wherever he was. There wasn’t the course itch of Tatooinian sand against his skin, no warm glow of the binary suns lighting up the dust motes and reflecting off the durasteel scraps piled against the walls. He was alone in a neverending black expanse, encased in a darkness that was neither comforting nor evil. Anakin couldn’t talk, his voice refused to leave the safety of his throat and his body was suspended in the nothingness.

For what felt like years he was stuck there, panic rising in his chest and his breathing becoming laboured. He wanted to cry for his mother, but couldn’t. He sucked in a sharp breath as a light finally appeared, it was falling, far out in the darkness. It came from high above and sped towards the ground like a falling star. At first he thought it was an angel- he’d heard of them from stories from the travellers, how they burned with such intensity that you couldn’t look at them for too long, but Anakin couldn’t tear his eyes away from the falling light, it _looked_ human… but more like the vague outline of one. The closer the figure got to the ground the more solid the outline became, the glow began to dim but they didn’t slow down and Anakin struggled against the phantom restraints, letting out soundless screams at the person to just _wake up._

His stomach flipped over and he flinched away, expecting to hear the sickening crack of bone on the ground but he didn’t look away- he _couldn’t._ Anakin felt hot tears well in his eyes as the figure’s head rolled back and halted. Two inches off the ground. They hung there, suspended by invisible strings. Anakin still couldn’t make out anything solid about the person, they still burned too bright for him to see their face- and they just hung there, motionless… then the glow slowly moved inward, curling tendrils of light receding into nothing, like a collapsing star. He let out a slow breath out and he watched transfixed as the figure- the _angel,_ disappeared into the blackness.

He would have screamed if he’d had the chance. Something shifted deep within him that he couldn’t understand. He felt like he’d seen something terrifying, something that he shouldn’t’ve. He couldn’t think of anymore as his eyes rolled back into his head once again, sending him back into the inky comfort of unconsciousness.

~

Watto’s putrid face was the first sight he was greeted with when he finally opened his eyes. The pinched expression from the Toydarian made his blood turn cold,

“Whata you doing? Ah?!” He cried, poking him with his clawed, stubby little fingers. Anakin scrambled to his feet, grimacing at the tension building behind his eyes.

Watto narrowed his yellowed eyes at him. He tried not to flinch, waiting for the swat to the back of his head and ignoring the painful sting when it finally came. Anakin had learned from a very young age that if he showed his weakness in front of others it would give them a reason to hurt him. Or his mother. He’d watched as people spat on his mother, and it made his eyes and heart burn. He hated them. He hated Watto. But he swallowed his anger, knowing better than to lash out at his owner. He had the scars on his back to prove it.

“Get back to work!” Watto sneered. “And if I see you sleepin’ on the job again!-” He bared his tusks at him, making his intention clear.

Anakin went back to his work with shaky hands, the dream already beginning to fade from his mind. He reached out to it, desperately trying to commit it all to memory- but it was like trying to catch smoke. Minute by minute, the harder he tried the more elusive it became- all he could remember was the body of the angel- suspended inches off the ground, and even then it was out of focus. He huffed in frustration, angry with himself that he couldn’t piece together the dream- or why he had had it in the first place. 

The day dragged on and by the time he stumbled through the door of their house Anakin was weary. Since he’d woken up all he’d wanted to do was go to sleep. His shoulders ached and his head lolled as he sat at the table, watching his mother finish preparing dinner. His mother turned to him after a few moments, a soft and loving smile filling him with warmth and the ever present comfort that she brought him. He was safe with her.

“What’s wrong Ani?” She said, Anakin looked up at his mother with tired eyes and told her what he remembered about his dream- she watched her expression morph from concern to confusion, and when he finished she stroked her fingers through his hair. It made his head heavy and he so desperately wanted to go to _sleep._

“Have something to eat Ani, I’m sure it was just a dream and the heat from today,” She told him, though Anakin didn’t think she sounded convincing. He was too tired to question her, and instead ate his food in silence. His mother sung him to sleep as she normally would, but her voice was tight, strained; she was worrying about something, and it made a small and uncomfortable weight bleed in his chest. He wanted to ask her what was wrong- had someone hurt her? But her voice was still soothing, and the light around her made him feel safe, and before he knew it his eyes were closing.

~

Shmi Skywalker put her son to sleep, singing him the songs that her mother had sung to her. She could hardly remember a time before being a slave, but her own mother’s voice would bring her peace in the darkest times. She bit her lip, sitting at the kitchen table and rolling up her sleeves. There was a small project she was working on, trying to fix an old chrono she’d found in Watto’s junk yard- not allowing herself to dwell too much on her son. It didn’t work. 

Anakin was _special._ She knew he was to the marrow of her bones. He was not meant to be a slave, he was not meant to be passed from master to master, system to system. He had a destiny that stretched far beyond Mos Espa and Tatooine, and it scared her… it scared her as it would scare any mother. Shmi gave a resigned sigh and set down the gears that just wouldn’t find their place in the chrono’s mechanism, looking out of the window and realising that the golden glow of late evening had given way to the watery darkness of early night.

Shmi didn’t always pray, from a young age she’d been disillusioned with the thought of Angels- at least the way they were spoken about in the legends. She believed in the Force and its power to bind and bring the galaxy together- for there was no rhyme or reason to the universe, but the Force made sure that everything happened as it needed to. So she prayed. She prayed to the Force and its angels that her son would be alright, that he would grow into the man she knew in her heart of hearts he could become. She prayed that she would live to see it, and that the angels he spoke of would keep him safe.

~

It was early morning when Anakin emerged from his room, his eyes still sticky with sleep and the remnants of the dream now nothing but ghosts of whispers in his mind. He’d woken to the trill of the sandflies and a rogue patch of light that beamed onto his face. He was put out for a few minutes, knowing that something important had happened yesterday. Something he couldn’t remember very well- but the residual feeling was that of a sleepy comfort so he didn’t think much of it. He did, however, remember angels, bright and beautiful. Maybe that was just his mother, the song she sang him before sleep always made him feel comfortable. 

It didn’t bother him not knowing what the dream was, he was more interested in his breakfast than he was anything else. 

His mother gave him a hug as he entered the kitchen, and kept close as they arrived at Watto’s shop. Their day was normal- Watto’s spitting complaints at them, the unrelenting heat of the rising suns shifting from mottled reds and pinks to stark yellow and blue as the morning progressed. Watto sent his mother out to fetch something that he didn’t care to listen to, but he felt her reluctance as she kissed him on the head and left.

Anakin got back into the rhythm of his chores, cleaning the front of the shop and fixing whatever Watto threw at him- quite literally. He snuck a few different parts from the junkyard- several different switches and some new plating for the protocol droid he was building for his mom. She did a lot of work and he wanted to give her something that would help her out around the house. He grabbed a few gears that would work with his podracer, wistfully looking towards the track where the race would be taking place in one rotation. Watto had boasted that he had the only human that could race- and he was! He was the only human that could survive on the track. Maybe Watto would let him race again? If he got it all fixed up in time.

He was lost in thought as he polished off a spare part, happily daydreaming about what he would do if he won- maybe he could place a bet? Maybe… maybe he could win his and his mother’s freedom? He wasn’t pulled from his thoughts until a young man walked in, his clothes hidden by heavy robes. Anakin blinked as they made eye contact. The stranger was brighter than anyone he had ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I traumatised him? Maybe? Obi-Wan isn't going to handle much of this very well I don't think. Poor guy lmao


	3. Bringing The Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there was a sandstorm coming- he could see it on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess what!! It has been exactly one year since I made this account!! I honestly can't believe how much time has passed and i hope that you're enjoying the story so far!!   
> this and the next few chapters are going to (somewhat) follow the events of TPM but after chapter 5/6 it should break away and we can get into the real stuff!!

Obi-Wan could feel his anxiety roiling in his stomach. It was strong- so,  _ so  _ strong. So unlike the feelings he had gotten before. When he stared at this… this  _ child,  _ his vision flickered for a moment, threatening to send him falling back into unconsciousness. He forced himself to stay awake, pushing his feelings out into the Force as best he could. Anakin Skywalker was looking at him, Obi-Wan didn’t need to be told that it was him. He  _ knew.  _ For a moment he felt the phantom tingle on his neck where the crimson flash of a lightsaber once struck. But he was so  _ small. How?  _ Obi-Wan thought,  _ how could you be evil?  _ It didn’t make sense to him-  _ how?  _ That feeling in his chest weighed down on him, coiling painfully around his heart.

Anakin didn’t say anything, just looked back with wide eyes, scanning him. “Are you an angel?” 

Obi-Wan nearly slapped himself. He restrained himself of course, as it would be improper and incredibly embarrassing to do so. Instead his eyes widened, “A what?” he said dumbly. Thank the stars he’d parted with Qui-Gon, Padmé and that Force forsaken Gungan at the entrance to the town- he’d never hear the end of it if his master had been there. 

“An angel.” Anakin said more insistently this time, “Like from the stories- they come from the very edges of the galaxy… They’re meant to be the most beautiful creatures in the universe- and they glow too! They live on the moons of Iego, I think.”

Obi-Wan pursed his lips, smothering a smile that was far too fond to be his own. “I assure you I am no such thing,”

“You look like one.” He replied with all the certainly a nine-year-old could have. Obi-Wan blinked at him, but the boy carried on, “I’m a pilot y’know- a good one too! One day I’m going to be the best pilot in the galaxy.”

A horrid feeling of pride and melancholy mixed in Obi-Wan’s chest but he pushed them down, coming closer to the counter Anakin was sat on. The workshop was the same sandy yellow the rest of Mos Espa was. Junk and scraps piled high against the walls and maintenance droids skittered about, doing odd little jobs or staring at him vacantly.

“Really?” He humoured him, Anakin gave him a proud smile, puffing out his chest.

“One day I’m going to leave here. I’ll free my mom and me.”

It hit Obi-Wan like a punch to the gut- whether that be because he was just finding out or already knew was beyond him- but it hit him all the same. A concerned look passed over his face, already feeling in the Force how angry the young boy was at the world, but he also saw the fear and the hope. He clenched his jaw, his own fear sitting heavily on his shoulders. He knew it wasn’t the Jedi way to feel so strongly- and that if he took him to the council they’d most certainly reject him for training, but just because Obi-Wan would fail to train him, didn’t mean that Qui-Gon would. 

“You’re a slave?” The words escaped him like air at the bottom of the ocean, quiet and disbelieving, the kid’s expression grew stormy and his Force signature darkened exponentially,

“I’m a  _ person.  _ And my name is Anakin.” He said forcefully,

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan downcast his eyes, a little embarrassed to have been so rude. “It was wrong of me to speak out of turn, Anakin,” 

When he looked back up he saw that the boy’s dark expression had vanished, Anakin opened his mouth to say something when a gravelly voice came around the corner-

“Ani?! Who is there?” A Toydarian appeared, hovering over from behind the stacks of parts, sneering at Anakin. Obi-Wan took a step forward, putting a barrier between them.

“What are you lookin’ for?” His wrinkled blue mouth pulled into what Obi-Wan guessed to be a smile. His eyes flicked back to Anakin and he shrank back from the owner. Obi-Wan felt a wave of protectiveness for the boy and raised an eyebrow at the Toydarian, who merely waved him off, taking his robe-covered arm and leading him away- barking back an order for Anakin to watch the store.

“A hyperdrive generator.” Obi-Wan said dubiously, glancing back and offering a little wave to Anakin- who beamed right back at him. “For a J-type 327 Nubian.” 

“Ah yes, yes T-14 hyperdrive generator- you’re in luck- I’m the only one hereabouts that has them.” Watto’s lip curled further,

“I have twenty thousand republic credits-”

“No, no, no!” Watto interrupted, “Republic credits! Pah! They mean nothing here- we deal with more, ahh…  _ valuable  _ things.”

Obi-Wan huffed, mind-tricks didn’t work on Toydarians… but… they could be  _ persuaded. _ But for that he needed Qui-Gon to help him. “Would you be able to hold onto it? If I can speak to my counterpart I’m sure we’ll be able to come to some sort of agreement.”

Watto narrowed his eyes at him and made a thoughtful sound at the back of his throat. The heat was starting to get to Obi-Wan and he could practically  _ feel  _ the sun burning his skin. He almost wished that he could shed some of the heavy Jedi robes that weighed down on him like armour. 

He pushed away his impatience and instead compelled his expression into a cool serenity. Of all the things that the Jedi had taught him he was truly glad that he had learned to control his expressions, Qui-Gon… while being a good master, he lacked the… diplomacy the Council believed a Jedi should be, so he had had to learn how to play the field, manipulate,  _ negotiate  _ when his Master became too unpredictable.

“What else could you possibly offer me?” Watto asked, Obi-Wan could see the gears turning in his head- trying to figure out a new way to swindle the Jedi.  _ Nice try.  _

“Well, you see,” Obi-Wan began, “I highly doubt that there are many J-type 327 starships passing through this planet- let alone this system. I can offer you Republic credits- however if you wont take those then I will happily consult my associate to offer you something more...  _ valuable.”  _ Obi-Wan leaned in ever so, “so you can either wait until sundown tomorrow for me to return with an agreement- or you can turn me away and lose my business entirely.”

He knew the Toydarian would take it even before he sneered a begrudging agreement. While yes, his species had an aversion to their mind tricks, they were so  _ terribly  _ easy to manipulate. 

He turned and walked back through the store where Anakin was working through several different droid parts, rewiring them and slotting them together to fashion some sort of arm. Obi-Wan smiled at him with the promise that he would be back soon, and he stepped back out into the street, comming Qui-Gon to meet at their rendezvous point. He looked back for a moment, and caught the flash of blond hair disappearing from the window ledge.

Qui-Gon was less than impressed that Obi-Wan had roped him into the deal. And Obi-Wan had the satisfaction of telling him that there wouldn’t even  _ be  _ a deal without him. So the two decided to call it even. Padmé and Obi-Wan walked side-by-side, for fourteen years old she was incredibly intelligent, and he could see why the Nabooian people regarded her so highly. Obi-Wan asked her about the local flora; having grown up on Coruscant didn’t merit him much more than reading about such things. Padmé told him about their native Millaflower and its calming effects, Obi-Wan listened avidly, half out of pure interest and half trying his very, very best to ignore Jar Jar Bink’s constant nattering.

They were on their way back to the ship when a garbled shriek came from behind them. Obi-Wan grimaced as he turned his head, watching the Gungan flail about on the sand- there was a Dug approaching and Obi-Wan was ever so tempted to see what would happen. But he was beat to it by the little form of a sand-covered blonde child speaking in rushed Huttese. 

By the time they reached Jar Jar and Anakin the Dug had slinked away- but not without pointing a threatening finger at them all. 

Anakin looked up at them, “Your buddy here was about to become orange goo. He picked a fight with a Dug- a very  _ dangerous  _ Dug called Sebulba.”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at the boy, then turned to Obi-Wan with a look he didn’t know how to describe. Obi-Wan had told him about Anakin- and how bright he was in the Force, his Master had seemed interested, thankfully. Obi-Wan knew that Anakin was meant to be taught by Qui-Gon, he would be a better master to Anakin than he himself could ever be. He could see it- just by looking at the two of them as they spoke.

Qui-Gon had an easiness about him that would quell Anakin’s anger, they would balance each other out. He was still sad though, as anyone would be, to leave his master so soon- Obi-Wan was deemed too old and too wild to become a padawan, and Qui-Gon had taken him on at the last minute. His old master never told him  _ why  _ exactly- but he would forever be thankful that he did.

Padmé and Anakin seemed to get along greatly, and talked quietly to each other as Anakin led them off towards the marketplace.

“There’s a pod racing competition tomorrow,” Anakin said offhandedly, “I built a racer- but I don’t think Watto would ever let me enter.” Qui-Gon’s eyebrow raised at that, and Obi-Wan knew that look- that was his  _ I have a plan  _ look. He knew already that this was not going to be good for his health.

Obi-Wan sent a smile down to Anakin, who had trotted up to one side of him. He looked out over the wind-sculpted dunes, there was a sandstorm coming- he could see it on the horizon. He bit his lip, they weren’t going to be able to make it back to the ship in time to take shelter, and he doubted anywhere decent would rent them a room for the night. 

“Do you have shelter?” Anakin piped up, as though reading his mind, 

“Our ship is on the outskirts,” Padmé replied from ahead of them,

Anakin shook his head and took the lead, “You’ll never outrun the storm, come one, you can stay with me.” He said it with such confidence that even as Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow at him the trio found themselves following him. Obi-Wan realised with mild concern that he was already becoming fond of Anakin. A heavy feeling of fear settled in the pit of his stomach at the thought, warning him to distance himself- that if he became too attached it would make things more difficult in the long run. So instead of keeping up with Anakin he steered the kid towards Qui-Gon, who immediately began telling him a half-true story of one of their little  _ adventures  _ on the planet Velusia. Obi-Wan fell into step with Padmé, making sure to keep the bumbling Jar Jar well within his sights- he had a penchant for trouble that Obi-Wan did  _ not  _ want to deal with.

~

He could feel it. 

He could feel the Force acting in retaliation. The unnatural twist in the flow of time made Darth Sidious smile. The darkness whispered to him of the opportunities this would give, where the end of the Jedi Order played into his hands so easily. He could feel it calling to him, like smoke curling around his fingers- tangible and unyielding power. 

“Tatooine,” He said, “it is sparsely populated, and it should be no problem for you to take the Queen back to Naboo to sign the treaty.” His apprentice’s face was concealed by his hood, masking the bold black and red lines and glowing gold eyes, but Sidious could feel his desperation to  _ please.  _ It made his lip curl, the pathetic thing was wound so tightly in the vines of his own anguish that he failed to see himself for what he really was. A pawn. Darth Maul was nothing. But he was too blind to see it- maybe that’s what made it so easy for Sidious, watching the postulant little zabrak beg and plead for attention- wanting nothing more than approval. It brought a feeling of sick glee to the Sith. 

The Coruscanti sunrise was colder than the durasteel the planet was made of. The red light bathed the neverending city in a pool of blood, the sharp spikes of the buildings like thorns sticking out from flesh. For a moment he imagined it in flames, burning to the ground and leaving nothing but the skeletal structure of what had once been. He imagined himself above it all, watching with hideous satisfaction as the world cowered under the shadow of his power.

He waved the zabrak away, knowing that he would fail. This wasn’t just about the naive little girl playing dress up, thinking that she could truly change the bone deep corruption in the hearts of the senate. She was just the beginning. There were other, more  _ important  _ things for him to worry about. Like that of the tear in the Force, and the consequences it will bring.

~

After dinner Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan aside. The night was cool enough for him to be glad to be wearing all his robes. Anakin and Padmé were still with the protocol droid Anakin had dragged them both along to meet. Qui-Gon gestured to him to sit on the sandy ledge, everything was sandy here, he hated it. 

“You know something, don’t you?” Qui-Gon studied him, and reached out through their training bond. Obi-Wan reinforced his shields as quickly as he could, his master couldn’t know what was going on- the results would be disastrous.

“What do you mean?”  _ Play dumb, Kenobi,  _ he said to himself

“I saw you go straight to Watto’s junk shop the moment we split up,” he leaned back ever so, eyes not leaving his padawan’s. “You insisted on coming along with us, too. So, what are you not telling me, Padawan?”

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw and glanced back inside the house; he couldn’t see Anakin from here but he could hear Padmé laughing, and the indignant yelp of the protocol droid. He looked back at his Master, dwelling on the stone cold fear that laced through him at the uncertainty of their future. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking back on one of Qui-Gon’s favourite lessons-  _ a half-truth is more valuable than a lie.  _

“I feel as if I know the boy.” He said eventually, Qui-Gon seemed rather surprised at the answer, and motioned for him to continue, “I have a feeling, Master,” he said, “Anakin… he’s special in some way.”

“What do you suggest we do?” The old man asked,

Obi-Wan looked back towards the house again, “we free him. We free them both.” He said, as though it were the easiest thing in the world. It wasn’t. Qui-Gon nodded, and stepped back into the light of the house without another word.

Obi-Wan’s unease didn’t fade. It didn’t even flicker. He stared out over the rooftops, the sandstorm had passed in a small, dense and furious cloud, leaving the dwellings marred with pin pricked discolourations like scars. His heart called out softly to the mountainous area just beyond the ridge at the edge of the ghetto. He knew this place. And if he closed his eyes and focused hard enough- just for a moment, he could still see the little place he’d made out there between the sun-worn rocks.

It didn’t fill him with any joy. It just made his heart heavier than it should have ever been.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin’s voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the here and now. Obi-Wan turned and was frightfully embarrassed to realise he was crying. The tear tracks blew cold against his face and he hastily wiped them away.

“Yes, Anakin?” he said, ignoring the faint quiver in his voice. 

Anakin stepped closer to him, reaching out a small hand and placing it on Obi-Wan’s arm comfortingly, “Are you okay?” He asked, Obi-Wan gave him a smile that he knew didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure I will be.” He said to the younger one,

“I’m going to win the podrace tomorrow.” He said determinedly, well, with all the determinedness a nine-year-old could have. 

“Thank you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said suddenly, the boy looked up at him and cocked his head,

“For what?” he asked.

“For helping us, we couldn’t do it without you.” He felt that Anakin was going to reply, but a call from his mother interrupted and Anakin scampered off, leaving Obi-Wan alone with his thoughts once more.

Just when Obi-Wan finally thought he’d have the time to drown himself in his own unease and anxiety he was disrupted once more.  _ Can’t a man wallow in self pity at all these days?  _ He thought with a bitter humour. Though truth be told he was glad for Padmé’s company, and she looked as though she needed someone to talk to- so he was happy to help.

“You seem troubled.” She said, Obi-Wan forced himself not to roll his eyes,

“That does seem to be the general consensus these days- are you and Qui-Gon in cahoots?” 

She chuckled, “you’d make a great politician you know. You could spot a deception a mile away.” 

Obi-Wan made a face, “Oh goodness no, I’m not brave enough for politics.” He shared in her laughter this time, “I’d make far too many enemies.”

She hummed thoughtfully, “sometimes making enemies is the right choice.” Obi-Wan considered her for a moment, mulling over her words,

“I suppose you’re right,” he said at last, “in the course of trying to do the right thing… you are going to have to make enemies. I just suppose you have to make sure you choose your enemies wisely.” He grew quieter, wisdom beyond his years tinging his voice, “I suppose only through the actions of your enemies can you truly build the foundations of change.”

“Sometimes I don’t believe change is even possible.” She said in the same tone, “there’s too much corruption in the galaxy. I mean look at this place- you heard Shmi- the Republic doesn’t exist out here.”

Obi-Wan allowed himself a melancholy smile, he searched inside himself, perhaps hoping to find the bud of hope he always carried with him. Hope for a better future. “Change is always possible,” he said after a long moment, leaning out over the edge and feeling the cool wind hit his face, “it is  _ always  _ possible when you have the right people fighting for it.” He had to believe that, otherwise the Force would never have given him this chance.

“If you weren’t a jedi I’d ask you to be my senator.” Padmé joked, but Obi-Wan felt a twinge of truth behind it…

“What about your current senator?” He tested, carefully watching her reaction; this was dangerous water. Palpatine couldn’t know that he was onto him. The memory of the fall of the republic had been one of the few to leave an indelible mark on his soul, branding him for life with the knowledge that the senate had been infiltrated by a Sith lord-  _ right under their noses.  _

“Senator Palpatine is a brilliant politician.” She said to him, Obi-Wan kept his expression under control, forcing his heart to slow down in his chest, “but he… his morals sometimes… How he goes about them… I’m not sure.”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, “You should trust your instincts, Padmé, they won’t lie to you.”

She seemed to take his words to heart.

  
That night Obi-Wan lay wide awake, thinking about their conversation. A  _ politician.  _ His nose scrunched at the thought of it. Stuffy, corrupt, pompous- he could  _ never-  _ ugh, it irked him just to  _ entertain. _ But his mind wouldn’t leave the subject alone, and slowly, piece by piece, a plan formed in his mind- half swayed by the drunkenness of sleep. As he closed his eyes the plan solidified and embedded itself deep in his mind, and for the first time since setting foot on Tatooine, he wasn’t afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh poor Obi-Wan, none of this is good for his health.


	4. Painted In My Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he looked at her, trying to mask the pain behind his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written another 10k of this in three days. I am currently at 20k. I hope y'all are in for the long haul because I have no outline, several vague interpretations and only one solid scene I want to write.

Obi-Wan fidgeted nervously, clenching and unclenching his hands as they made their way through the streets towards the workshop. Anakin had left earlier than them- rushing out the door with a ration bar in his mouth and a cheery good-bye to Obi-Wan. 

He’d been thoroughly side-lined today- his Master saying that  _ he  _ was going to negotiate with Watto and that it would be absolutely  _ fine  _ because he had a  _ plan. _ Qui-Gon’s  _ plans  _ always filled him with dread. Several times it had landed him in trouble with all sorts of mercenaries and  _ twice  _ the man had gambled away both his own robes  _ and  _ Obi-Wan’s. So forgive him if he was a little on edge. 

“Are you sure about this?” Padmé asked, her brow pinched, “trusting our fate to a boy we hardly know?”

Qui-Gon seemed to ponder the thought for a minute, then turned to Obi-Wan, “What do you think?”

Obi-Wan looked between the two parties- and the gungan currently inspecting a large beetle on a nearby rock- and sighed, “I think Anakin is our best chance.” He answered honestly, Padmé scowled and Qui-Gon nodded to him, more than a little bit smug.

“The Queen will not approve.” Padmé grumbled, Obi-Wan had to smother a shit eating grin when his Master replied with a twinkle in his eye:

“The Queen doesn’t need to know.”

Padmé didn’t stop scowling until Qui-Gon had disappeared inside the shop. “Well I don’t approve.” She sat down on a rock next to where Jar Jar was and stared at her hands,

“Padmé,” Obi-Wan said, why was he so uncomfortable? Why did he have to look at her and that bud of sadness bloom in his chest like a flower in the harshness of winter? He knew why. He just didn’t want to. “Anakin is our best option- you have to trust-”

“I don’t trust easily.” She said, and Obi-Wan finally saw her youth shining through, though she was only four years younger than him, and a Queen at that- she still had a lot to learn.

“Trust  _ me  _ then,” he said, “I have complete faith that things will work out.” Padmé looked up at him, seemingly unconvinced, but nodded. 

Obi-Wan had to admit- he was truly impressed with the podracer. He didn’t have to like the fact that his master had bet their entire  _ ship  _ on it, but that was neither here nor there when it came to Qui-Gon. Anakin was moving about with expert precision, rewiring things and calling out for Obi-Wan to pass him different tools. 

He was in his element here, tangled up in wires and his blonde hair stained with machine oil. A wave of fondness overtook him for a moment- dragging him back to another life where he saw another version of that toothy grin he got when Obi-Wan complimented him on his work. He pushed the thought away- reminding himself of the danger of attachment, and how it meant more now than ever.

He looked over to Qui-Gon, he was talking into his comm- maybe contacting the Captain back at the ship. He saw Shmi come out from the house and stand next to him, talking amongst themselves. He knew Qui-Gon would understand what he had to do- his Master had always had a certain foresight when it came to the grand scheme of things- no matter how much the council hated it. 

Obi-Wan was pulled from his thoughts by Anakin warning Jar Jar not to get too close to the engines. Then pinched the bridge of his nose when the Gungan yelped, having gotten too close to the purple plazma that turned his tongue numb. 

“Maybe that’ll keep him quiet for a few hours,” Obi-Wan mumbled half-heartedly, he heard Anakin’s muffled giggle and chuckled quietly to himself,

“Obi-Wan…” Anakin appeared out from where he had been laying in the sand to reach the underbelly of the podracer, “do you think I can win this race?”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said honestly, “but I do believe everything happens for a reason, and whether you win or lose- I  _ am  _ sure everything will work out.” Anakin didn’t seem satisfied with his cryptic answer, and posed the same question to the Gungan, who gave a very enthusiastic and very garbled reply. He seemed much happier.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had felt this nauseous three times in his very short life.

The first time had been when he was fourteen and on a diplomatic mission to some mid-rim planet he didn’t care to learn the name of with Qui-Gon he’d contracted a very serious and very disgusting flu from the local food.

The second time was when he was sixteen, and Quinlan Vos had appealed to his more competitive nature one night while out with several other padawans. They had travelled under the cover of darkness to the lower levels of Coruscant and found a less than dignified cantina that would sell them alcohol. Vos had challenged him to see who could down the highest number of shots that contained a mix of Cortyg Brandy, Dresselian Beer, and about twelve other things he could not remember for the life of him. The next morning had seen him hanging over the edge of the bed, clutching onto a bucket and hacking up his own intestines while Qui-Gon glared in such a way that said  _ you deserve this.  _

The third time was watching a tiny,  _ tiny  _ nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker climb into the cockpit of a podracer. Qui-Gon was talking to him and he caught snippets of their conversation:  _ Feel, don’t think. Use your instincts.  _ Qui-Gon was a brilliant Master, and would be the best thing for Anakin, he knew that, and he would be safe. But right now he vibrated with pure anxiety he feared he might spontaneously combust.

He didn’t have to look at Shmi Skywalker to know that she had a very similar expression on her face. This was absurd- and that did not just come from his aversion to flying in any and all respects- but it did a damn fine job of reinforcing it.

The crowd roared with thunderous applause, cheering away as the announcers began the race. Obi-Wan took his seat between Padmé and Qui-Gon, anxiously looking out over the stands to try and get a glimpse of sandy blond hair amongst the crowds of crew and racers. Qui-Gon patted his arm,

“I did some gambling while you and Padmé helped Anakin with his racer.” He said quietly, it did absolutely nothing for Obi-Wan’s current mental state. He feared he might pass out and have to blame the entire ordeal on the heat.

“You did  _ what?” _

“I made a bet with Watto- if Anakin wins the race he’ll be free. I know what you see in this boy and I trust your judgement, I see it too.”

“He is incredibly bright in the Force, Master,” Obi-Wan said, swallowing his nausea, he was thankful for not having to raise his voice above the noise. Padme and Shmi seemed nonthewiser to their conversation, “We need to check his midichlorian count.”

“I agree.” Qui-Gon turned his head and scrutinised his padawan, making Obi-Wan uncomfortably vulnerable. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but it’s proving effective.”

Obi-Wan didn’t really know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. He went with the latter. The announcer’s voices echoed throughout the stadium and reverberated within Obi-Wan’s skull and the race began.  _ Oh, be still my beating heart  _ he thought bitterly.

~

Anakin had won. He had really  _ won.  _ Fierce pride bloomed in his chest as Qui-Gon lifted him from his racer, he cried and whooped over the sound of the crowd, elation flowing through him.

“Mom! Mom I did it!” His mother’s broad smile was her answer. He turned around wildly, searching for Obi-Wan and scrambling off of Qui-Gon’s shoulders when he caught sight of him at the edge of the eager crowd that had formed. He barrelled through them, dodging their legs and appearing on the other side. He missed the look that Qui-Gon gave the other Jedi, so solely focused on getting to him.

Without really thinking Anakin leaped towards Obi-Wan, crashing into him with a gleeful yelp, Obi-Wan took his weight easily, he beamed proudly at him and for a second he thought he could fly, “You did it!” He said. 

Anakin laughed loudly, wrapping his little arms around Obi-Wan’s middle. When he looked up at him again the light of the midday suns cast a halo of light around his head, he felt it oddly familiar for some reason- but didn’t have enough time to dwell on it as they were ushered off the track and back inside. 

Anakin hugged Padmé, who thanked him for helping them, and his mother kissed his cheek and held in close, he had brought hope to these people- the way his mother had always taught him to. He hoped they succeeded- he really,  _ really  _ did. But that didn’t stop him from being upset that the adventure was over now, that he’d probably never see them again.

He scanned the room, watching as Qui-Gon put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, turning him away from the crowd and speaking in hushed tones before taking off in another direction. Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed, but when he turned and walked over to the rest of the group his expression changed into a false smile that didn’t reach his eyes- maybe Obi-Wan was sad about leaving too? 

“Does this mean you’re leaving?” Anakin said, feeling the warning sting behind his nose that he was about to cry. He pushed it down, anger welling in him that he had to be such a  _ baby  _ about it. 

Obi-Wan’s expression softened as he crouched down to Anakin’s height, “I’m afraid so, young one.” He said, Anakin’s brow knit and he stepped forward,

“Don’t leave without saying goodbye.” He mumbled, hugging him.

Anakin felt Obi-Wan hug him back, but he didn’t see the soft smile his mother sent the Jedi, an unspoken feeling of thanks between them. Anakin closed his eyes and focused hard, trying to catch a glimpse of the light he had seen in Obi-Wan the first time they had met, and slowly the light began to unfurl itself like a budding flower, curling outwards from his very core.  _ Maybe all Jedi look like that  _ he thought to himself,  _ maybe they all glow like angels.  _ He held onto the Jedi for another long moment before Padmé said that they had to leave.

He was going to miss her too, she was kind and soft-spoken while still being stubborn, she was very beautiful, but she didn’t glow the same way Obi-Wan did… not from the inside out. Padmé’s light was like an aura around her, much the same as that of his mother and everyone else.

He took his mother’s hand and she pulled him close to her, but he cast a final look back to see Obi-Wan and Padmé meet Qui-Gon at the exit. For a moment he thought he saw Obi-Wan look his way, but he wasn’t smiling anymore, he looked like he was in pain.

~

Obi-Wan found himself standing outside of the Skywalker residence. His anxiety was still at war with his reason, and he took little solace in the soft clink of credits in his hand. They would be enough for Shmi Skywalker to live off for some time, and it somewhat eased his guilt for taking Anakin away from her. But he would be safe with the Jedi, he had to believe that.

With a sigh of resigned finality he let the door zip open, revealing Shmi and her son at a small work station situated in an alcove off to one side of the front door. They both looked up at him in bewildered delight as he entered. Anakin leaped off the end of the table and skittered to a halt in front of him, a toothy grin on his face.

“You came to say goodbye?” He said happily- more of a question than a statement. Obi-Wan nodded, not letting his nerves get the better of him he crouched down and handed the credits to Anakin,

“For your mother,” he said, watching the little boy’s eyes light up as he rushed towards the woman. 

“That’s wonderful, Ani- thank you so much, Obi-Wan.” She matched her son’s smile and her eyes shone with unshed tears, Anakin handed them to her and she leaned over the worktop, pulling her son into a short hug.

a mix of trepidation and elation surged through Obi-Wan, “And he’s been freed.” He said shortly, Anakin whipped around with barely contained excitement, 

“What?!” 

Obi-Wan nodded eagerly, his own spark of joy burning in his chest, “you’re no longer a slave, Ani.”

Obi-Wan did not miss the flicker in Shmi’s eyes as her son turned back to her. Even as he celebrated he saw the knowingness in her eyes, he was vaguely aware of a memory- just beyond the vividity of his consciousness. He knew that look, the look of someone who knew their time with the one they loved had come to an end. He had worn it. Obi-Wan caught her eye, but he did not see the sadness he had expected; instead he saw hope, unfiltered, joyous hope. Hope that her son would have a life beyond the confines of Mos Espa’s walls. Hope that he will be able to make his dreams come true.

He felt it in the Force, the hope that now surrounded Shmi Skywalker and her son as she told him he was free to be whoever he wished, she turned to him then, training her warm brown eyes on Obi-Wan, “Will you take him with you? Is he to become a Jedi?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan smiled, he looked down at the boy, “I told you, Anakin, everything happens for a reason. Our meeting was not a coincidence.”

“You mean  _ I  _ get to come with you in your starship?”

“It will not be easy, young one,” Obi-Wan said seriously, “if you do come with us, and train as a Jedi, it will be challenging.”

“I want to go!” Anakin said with all the authority he could muster, “it’s what I’ve always dreamed of doing!” he turned back to his mother, “can I go mom?”

Shmi took his hands in hers and looked deep into her son’s eyes, “The Force has set a path for you, Ani, you must follow it. I know that no matter where you go the Force will guide you-” she tore her eyes away from Anakin’s for a moment, and a sudden look of knowing passed over her face as she glanced at Obi-Wan, “-and I know that the angels of the Force will always be your protector.” She looked back at her son, “the choice is yours, Ani, and yours alone.”

He nodded minutely, “I wanna do it.”

Obi-Wan let out a silent breath of relief, “then pack your things, Anakin, we don’t have much time,”

Anakin made a move to his room when he halted, turning back to the two of them with a sudden look of panic, “is mom free too?” Obi-Wan’s heart dropped to his stomach, he closed his eyes and shook his head sympathetically, feeling the hurt coming off of Anakin like tidal waves.

“Master Qui-Gon tried to free your mother… but Watto refused.” He said, Anakin looked desperately over to his mother, moving forward to be nearer, she sat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes shining with unshed tears- but still that lingering hope eased the turmoil in the air around her.

“Son, my place is here,” she said, she stroked a hand through Anakin’s hair and let her lips twitch into a sad smile, “my future is  _ here.  _ But yours, yours is out there.”

“I don’t want things to change,” Anakin replied weakly, leaning into his mother’s touch. Obi-Wan turned away, not wanting to intrude on the moment. 

Shmi leaned in closer to her son, “You can’t stop the change any more than you can stop the suns from setting.” She pulled him into a tight hug, “I love you, Ani- now hurry,” he pulled away and she wiped a wayward tear from his eye before he scurried to his room to pack. Shmi stood and came towards Obi-Wan, a determined look in her eyes.

“I promise he will be safe with us.” He said soothingly, she inclined her head in acknowledgement,

“I prayed for an angel.” She said, “I just didn’t believe they’d come in the form of a padawan knight.” Obi-Wan couldn’t hold back his chuckle,

“I am no angel- my Master will take care of him, that much I can say.” He replied, 

“Promise you’ll watch over him for me, Obi-Wan.” Shmi told him, “you have become very important to him in such a short time.”  _ Oh dear,  _ Obi-Wan thought.  _ Oh no. No, please don’t say that. Don’t make me make a promise I know I cannot keep. _

“My master-”

“Obi-Wan,” she interrupted, he looked at her, trying to mask the pain behind his eyes, but he only saw it reflected back at him through hers,  _ “please.” _

Obi-Wan swallowed, “I promise.” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you this poor guy isn't getting a holiday


	5. Thunder On The Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was nothing left in this man but a shell scraped clean of compassion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the FINAL chapter of Part I!!!! Then there will be pretty significant time-skip and we get into the more /complicated/ stuff  
> why am I like this?  
> I hope you guys enjoy it though!!

Before Obi-Wan could comprehend what was happening they were running. He whirled around, desperately scanning the horizon for the black-robed zabrak chasing them. His eyes caught the speeder bike coming towards them and called for Anakin to drop- the front of the bike only a hair's breadth from hitting the boy.

Flashes of a desert battle flashed through his mind, the glowing gold eyes of the Sith apprentice were wild and fever-bright. There was nothing left in this man but a shell scraped clean of compassion- a mindless pawn built on revenge and hatred. Obi-Wan ignited his saber and attacked, desperation and fear plaguing his mind as the horrifying opportunity presented itself to be _done_ with this. It was there, it was so close. 

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Anakin scramble up the ramp of the ship and it took off, flying low enough to keep a close watch on the fight. He didn’t want to take their invitation to escape. He wanted Maul _dead._ He wanted this to be over- to get rid of the threat before it could even become one. 

Maul’s fighting style was erratic and spontaneous- it followed no traditional form. He blocked and parried easily- a lifetime of forgotten experience charging every cell in his body. He fueled every strike with the weight of his own hatred. There was something that overtook him for a moment, he fell into it as easy as breathing and the unwanted animal inside him took over his control. He fought with all the desperation of a man that had lost and lost and lost.

Maul felt it in him. He could see it. The zabrak smiled nastily, a taunting sneer and Obi-Wan’s attacks became sloppy, trying to contain the rage coursing through his veins. _No._ He thought viciously, he felt the darkness clawing at his ribcage- sickening glee at the thought of a new conduit for its evil. It wanted _out._ Obi-Wan pushed it down. Fighting with it as it ripped through his skin. _No._

He stepped back into the Jedi forms he had been taught, instantly feeling an uneasy peace settle over him. He bit back his fear and snuck a glance to the ship- it was closer and the ramp still hadn’t been retracted. He swung his green saber at the Sith, pushing him back into a defensive position and took the opportunity to leap onto the platform, scrambling to safety.

His breathing was heavy and the adrenaline from the fight seeped from his body. He was tired, _so_ tired. The fear of passing out the only thing keeping him from letting his eyes roll back into his head. In the fuzziness beyond his conscious mind he heard Qui-Gon’s low voice, drawn tight with worry. Obi-Wan was almost touched.

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon’s hand on his shoulder pulled him from his shock, the man’s eyes were full of concern. “What was that?”

Obi-Wan’s voice was thick and his mouth was suddenly dry from exhaustion, sweat trickled down his back and he glanced from his master to Anakin, “I don’t know,” he lied, “it- it could fight like a jedi- the saber- what do we do?”

Qui-Gon’s expression shifted into thoughtful contemplation, “We need to be patient.” He said, “we need to consult the council on this.”

Obi-Wan felt a small hand on his arm as he sat up properly, meeting Anakin’s wide eyes. His mind echoed with the hollow promise he made to the boy’s mother; he clenched his jaw, his fear and anxiety scratching at the back of his bones- he looked away, unable to face him after what had just happened- how easily the dark side had welcomed him. 

It scared him, how easily it had happened, but he held onto the feeling that had expelled it, grasping the smokey tendrils of light that chased away the darkness and holding them close to his heart. He rested a hand over Anakin’s. 

A moment of insanity overtook him and he _laughed_ . He was _seventeen._ He was not meant to grapple with this. He was not meant to feel the raging push and pull of the dark side and his own body trapped with two souls inside of it, still trying to stitch itself into something that resembled a real being. 

Anakin looked at Qui-Gon confusedly for a moment. But the Master’s worry worn eyes never left that of his apprentice. When Obi-Wan finally calmed down he stared at his Master and the boy that was meant to be his padawan. He sighed loudly, “I can’t believe any of this, you know.” He said weakly, “negotiations… we were meant to be going for negotiations.”

Suddenly Qui-Gon chuckled, and Anakin stared at the two Jedi, laughing on the floor of the ship,

“I think the Force is trying to keep us on our toes.” The other man muttered. _You have no idea,_ Obi-Wan thought with a quick and exasperated smile.

~

Anakin sat shivering in the quietened galley of the ship. Space was cold, and his fingertips were numb, how he longed for his mother, and her warmth that never failed to bring him peace. He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, curling further into the corner and trying to block out the noise of Jar Jar’s snores. Anakin looked at the little charm in his hand, he’d nearly finished carving it- there wasn’t much left to do now, and he was proud of it. The Jappor Snippet was tied to a thick leather string and was smooth to the touch.

He held it in his little palm, tracing over the symbols. His mother had told him that in the time of the old stories- when the gods still walked the galaxy- that Tatooine had been one of several homes to the gods, and that their spirits still lived on through their stories and their people. He knew it was just something she would tell him when he was upset- trying to make the best of a bad life. He knew she didn’t like the life she’d been given, and that her stories were more for him than her.

Anakin’s mother loved him, and he knew in his heart he would do whatever it took to free her. He’d go back, and he’d bring her to Coruscant. He was going to be a Jedi, and she would never have to worry about Watto or anyone else. She could be safe and far away from anything that might hurt them. Forever.

His thoughts turned to the Jedi, and Obi-Wan. His eyes drooped for a moment, getting lost momentarily in the exhaustion of hyperspace. In the fuzziness he remembered the halo of light that had emanated from the young Jedi. He’d seen it, that light. It was so familiar, like a memory from a dream. His finger passed over the Jappor Snippet again, holding it close to him, with another shiver he pulled his own arms around him, trying to keep the heat from escaping.

The galley door slid open and Padmé’s orange dress appeared. She made her way over to the transmissions and replayed the image of an older man, dressed in big puffy robes, pleading for help. He could feel the man’s distress, but there was an edge to it, something he didn’t quite get to understand as the holo cut off with an electrical scratch.

Padmé’s face was pinched, she looked like she was in great pain and Anakin could feel that she was in turmoil. She turned to him and noticed that he was awake, her surprise was evident; then it morphed into a small smile,

“Are you okay Ani?” She asked softly, Anakin shrugged,

“It’s cold.” He replied, Padmé let out an amused hum and rummaged through a draw, pulling out a blanket and bringing it over to him. She had a very calming aura about her, despite her earlier demeanor, she tucked in the edges to keep the cold out and he settled into it. 

“Space is cold, and you come from a warm planet. Much too warm for my taste.” She joked quietly, smoothing over the blanket absently. Anakin gave her a small smile. 

“What’s that?” She asked, pointing at the Jappor Snippet that was still clasped tightly in his hand, Anakin felt a childish blush reach the tips of his ears, 

“I made it…” He said simply.

“It’s very pretty, Ani.” She said, for a minute Anakin thought maybe he should give the Snippet to her- it wasn’t likely that they’d ever see each other again, and he’d miss her greatly. She was a wonderful friend. But he didn’t move to give it to her, there was something at the back of his head telling him to _wait,_ so he did. He slowly put the little piece of jewelry in his pocket, and Padmé met his eyes with a smile.

“I miss my mother,” he said, 

“I understand,” she said, “I know it must be scary. But you’ll be a Jedi,”

Anakin smiled at the thought. _A Jedi._ He’d have a _lightsaber._ One of the protectors of the galaxy. One of the greatest heroes the universe has ever known. Anakin took solace in the thought that he wouldn’t be gone for good, and that he would be around Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan and be taught by them. 

“I’ll miss you, Padmé.” Anakin said, Padmé smiled,

“I’ll miss you too, Anakin.”

~

Obi-Wan lay awake, watching half asleep as the soft golden glow of the room turned him into a patchwork man of light and shadow. He snorted shallowly, he supposed that’s what he was now, _a patchwork man._ He’d been torn apart and restitched by the Force, his memories incomplete and colourless. His stomach lurched as he remembered the way Qui-Gon had looked at him when he first fell bonelessly onto the medbay bed, of course the older Jedi had seen the way he had fought Maul. Luckily he didn’t comment on it. He had wielded his ‘saber with fear and hatred, and he could do nothing to stop it. He hadn’t touched the darkness, he knew that, but he had come so close. It scared him, and the haunting image of Maul’s yellow eyes wouldn’t leave his mind.

He eventually gave up on trying to sleep and slipped out of bed. The beds on the ship were unnecessarily comfortable, a luxury meant for the royalty that owned it. He figured that if he couldn’t sleep he was probably hungry and made his way to the galley, Padmé had shown him where the handmaidens kept a secret stash of Nabooian sweets she liked. 

He didn’t bother putting on anything other than his outer robe over his undershirt and trousers, he felt oddly naked without it really, it was a comfort to him, the heavy weight on his shoulders grounding him to the _here and now_ as Qui-Gon always reminded him to. He padded through the ship towards the galley, letting the door open with a quiet zip. Jar Jar was totally passed out at the table, his chair hanging at a disastrously odd angle with his head back and making the most _obnoxious_ sounds he’d ever heard a person make in their sleep. Nonetheless he carefully brought the chair to its rightful position, and maneuvered the dead-to-the-world gungan into a more comfortable arrangement. He snorted as Jar Jar mumbled what he guessed to be a thanks- in a squeaky, garbled, sleep-addled way. Obi-Wan smiled despite himself.

As he moved away to get to the far end where the sweets had been stashed he caught sight of Anakin, curled up in a little ball in the corner of the seating area, clutching onto a bright orange blanket. His face was so peaceful, like everything was right with the world, and he didn’t know any better.

Without thinking Obi-Wan shucked off his outer robe, feeling his shoulders become lighter and the prickling chill of hyperspace finally get to him, but he didn’t mind. He wrapped it around the little boy as carefully as he could, not wanting to wake him. He supposed there was an upside to his own patchwork soul, he could fill in the missing pieces, he could sew new memories into the fabric. He committed this one to it, focused on the serene face of this child. This was not the Chosen One, he was not a hero, not yet at least; right now he was Anakin. Obi-Wan wanted to remember him like this.

Anakin was heavy for a nine-year-old as Obi-Wan lifted him up, he was cocooned in Obi-Wan’s outer robe, still looking far too small to have such a destiny ahead of him. He curled into Obi-Wan’s arms, seeking further warmth from the coldness of space, so Obi-Wan held him that bit tighter. His time with Anakin was limited, so he took comfort in the moment. He opened the door to the sleeping quarters with the Force, knowing that it was _inappropriate use of the Force_ but he was a little too tired and carrying an entire _nine-year-old_ in his arms to really care. 

He placed Anakin on the bed softly, and eventually gave up trying to get his robe back. He headed back to the galley and took a few of the sweets from the cupboard Padmé had shown him. Then ended up falling asleep at the table, lulled by Jar Jar’s Force forsaken snoring.

~

Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. _Palpatine._ Had Obi-Wan had less self control he would have already run him through. He _couldn’t._ But it didn’t mean he didn’t _want_ to. They touched down on the landing pad and Obi-Wan stood next to Qui-Gon, respectfully silent as Chancellor Vellorum greeted them. The Queen’s decoy replied in turn, he could see Padmé’s scrutinising gaze from behind her and smothered a little smile. Anakin was standing in front of him- staring wide eyed at the city. 

He wasn’t surprised at the reaction- Coruscant may have been his home for as long as he can remember but there was always something deep inside him that would forever be impressed at the sheer ingenuity of the planet. Anakin’s gaping warmed his heart, and he turned to Obi-Wan with a toothy grin- pointing at the ships and speeders crossing the skyline above them in neat lines.

When Padmé and the handmaidens moved to go with Palpatine Anakin went with them- turning back to look at the two Jedi. Obi-Wan nodded to him with a small smile, and Padmé called him to go with them, he swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing it was probably one of the last times he would see Anakin Skywalker.

The Jedi Council always filled him with awe and respect when he was younger, and standing in front of them once again threatened to crush him. He was silent, eyes trained on the floor and refusing to meet the gaze of the people that he had watched die once upon a lifetime. He could feel Yoda trying to get his attention through the Force, but instead of looking at the grandmaster he threw up his shields. He couldn’t face them. Not yet.

He listened to Qui-Gon and the council discuss who Darth Maul might be, he _wanted_ to tell them, he wanted to tell them all everything and put his faith in the Force that they would believe but he _knew_ they would never listen to him- they would never listen to a padawan. He couldn’t run the risk of Palpatine finding out what had happened to him- he was lucky enough that nobody on the council had realised his Force signature was different. 

At that thought he looked up at Yoda, who was already looking at him with those wrinkled eyes, gaze hard and knowing. _Fuck._ Obi-Wan grit his teeth, shielding himself further, biting back his own fear. He had a _plan,_ and he had a feeling it was one that Yoda would _not_ agree with.

_Well maybe that’s why you’re doing it_ he thought to himself, because the last time he had listened to the council went swimmingly didn’t it? 

His head snapped over to Qui-Gon when he finally mentioned Anakin- the _vergence_ in the Force. The Chosen One. Oh his heart hurt to think about the destiny that was being placed on the child- the pressure that he was going to go through and the distrust that would grow within the council. His eyes turned to Mace Windu, and a thought struck him: if anyone were to understand this it was him- and it would ease some of the tension in the council if Windu were to _understand-_ He closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness overtook him. _Right-_ still trying to patch himself together- _don’t get ahead of yourself, Kenobi._

Obi-Wan let out a silent breath of relief as they were finally dismissed- Anakin would need to come before them- he’d have to be tested of course-

“Padawan Kenobi.” Yoda’s croaky voice made his legs turn to lead- he glanced at Qui-Gon before turning around, 

“Yes, Master Yoda?” He said, returning to the middle of the council chamber and bowing respectfully. Yoda examined him, and he felt his skin tingle, the hair on the back of his neck standing up on end. He held his ground, staring right back,

“Something to tell us, have you?” Yoda said- but Obi-Wan could tell that this was a test. He felt the eyes of the council on him in that moment- all of them wanting to know what Obi-Wan could possibly be hiding from them.

Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek- there was something in him telling him not to trust the council- that there was a larger tapestry that this moment thread through and he had more important things to consider- he had to think about the Sith Lord that had infiltrated the senate. He had to think about the young boy that the Jedi Council had failed in his past lifetime- how _he_ had failed him- and how there was no way he would fail him again. He jutted out his chin, staring into Yoda’s eyes,

“No.” He said.

Yoda’s eyes widened for a brief second, before- to Obi-Wan’s surprise- he smirked. “Then you are dismissed, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan may have been curious- but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He turned on his heel and left the chamber with Qui-Gon in tow, not letting himself breathe until he had crossed the threshold into the hallway where Anakin stood waiting for them.

He forced himself to calm down and ignore the sweat at the back of his neck. He was so focussed on the task at hand that he let out an embarrassingly high yelp as he was tackled from behind.

_“OBI-WAN KENOBI!”_ Was the last thing he heard before he was laying, back flat against the ground and a very angry padawan Quinlan Vos pinning him down. “You told me you would call the _second_ you were planetside- how long have you been at the temple huh? A day? A week?”

“If you’ll kindly let me up, Quin- I’ll tell you.” Obi-Wan couldn’t hide the laugh in his voice. Quinlan Vos had arrived at the temple at the same time he did, they had grown up together and become best friends even though they were as different as night and day; he’d missed him so much. 

Quin moved off of him and did a jaunty little salute to Qui-Gon, who just shook his head fondly. There was no doubt most of Obi-Wan’s teenage shenanigans were the product of his friendship with Vos- but they were just as bad as each other. Obi-Wan dusted himself off and glared playfully at his friend, turning back to his master and Anakin- who was red-faced and glaring at Quin with all the acute rage he could muster- he looked like an angry kitten.

“I have been planetside since this morning,” Obi-Wan said to his fellow padawan, Quin gasped, as though scandalised by the news,

“And I am only finding out about this _now?!_ Obi-Wan I thought we were friends!” Obi-Wan chuckled in reply, going in for an _actual_ hug this time. He knew it wasn't _The Jedi Way_ but there could be exceptions for his best friend. When he looked back at Qui-Gon after they broke away the man just sighed,

“Please don’t get into any trouble,” Qui-Gon told him, then shot a heatless glare at Quin- “You too, Vos, I don’t want to have to bail you both out of jail again.”

Quin smirked wickedly, “That was _one_ time, Master Qui-Gon- and _everybody_ knows that Obi over here is the one that’s a bad influence.” He emphasised his point by patting Obi-Wan on the cheek- he shrugged him off with a heatless glare.

The Jedi all chuckled; Qui-Gon let out a long sigh and turned towards the council chamber, then looked expectantly down at Anakin- whose eyes hadn’t left Vos. Obi-Wan knelt down, coming face to face with the boy. Anakin ripped his gaze away from the other padawan and looked at him,

“You’re going to be fine,” he comforted, Anakin didn’t say anything, just threw his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck and hugged him. For a moment he just stayed there, not really sure what to do- then hugged the little boy back. “You will be a Jedi, Ani,” he said soft enough only he could hear, “I promise.”

He said goodbye to Quin- who made him promise to meet at Dex’s for welcome home food and that their friends would meet them there. He had missed his friends, and the few moments solace to see his oldest gave him a new sense of peace- it was fragile- but it was there, and it was what he needed as Anakin gripped onto the sleeve of his robe and they followed Qui-Gon into the council chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently in the middle of writing chapter seven which is the first chapter of part ii, and its really tough??? Older Ani??? I JUST GOT USED TO BABY ANI!!!!! save me


	6. Take My Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt the familiar adrenaline lacing through his veins like ice in the face of the fight.
> 
> He could feel it rising in his chest with every step, the thunder that moved with him and the Force singing in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is the FINAL chapter of Part I, I hope you've enjoyed the previous chapters and are prepared for this emotional rollercoaster!!

“Ship. Speeder. Ship. Ship.” Anakin had his eyes closed and Obi-Wan allowed a small, proud smile to pull at the corners of his lips. He watched as the golden light filled the chamber- casting long shadows up the walls. The council could all see how strong Anakin was, he knew it.

“How feel you?” Yoda asked, pointing a clawed finger at him, Anakin thought for a moment,

“Cold, sir.” He replied, the image of the child wrapped up in his robe came to mind. The council’s focus shifted to Anakin’s mother, and Obi-Wan was harshly reminded of the promise he had made right before they left. He pushed it away.

“Fear is the path to the dark side,” Yoda said solemnly- Obi-Wan pretended not to notice the way the creature’s eyes flicked over to him, and instead focused on Anakin. Yoda  _ knew-  _ of course he did- nothing gets by that green little raisin.  _ Well done Kenobi, you’ve already screwed yourself over,  _ his thoughts didn’t help… how was he going to go about this? Would Yoda try and stop him? No, they couldn’t. They had to trust him on this… He had to trust himself.

“Much fear, I sense in you.” Yoda spoke again, Obi-Wan swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing Anakin was not the only one that was meant for.

It was dark by the time the council called them forward again. He felt the gaze of the Jedi Masters like a physical weight on his chest- which was nothing new. Still, he clenched his jaw, waiting.

“No.” Windu said, “he will not be trained.” 

Obi-Wan held his breath, waiting for the moment he knew was coming- the one that he had been waiting for. He remembered the bitterness of the betrayal last time he’d been in this position, the hurt of still being unwanted. He  _ was  _ unwanted; but he could make peace with that another time- he had a mission now- and being cast aside by his master was a part of that.

“I will train him then.” Qui-Gon said, and no matter how much Obi-Wan prepared himself for it the words still stung him, a marrow-deep pain that would never really fade. He stayed silent as Qui-Gon made the excuse that Obi-Wan was ready for his trials- he wasn’t. And in many ways he was still a child, still learning the cruelty of the world around him, but he knew better now. So he stayed silent.

His stomach lurched painfully when Windu told them they had to go back to Naboo. He let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, dropping his head to the ground at the fear that swathed over him- his throat closed like he’d taken a too large bite of an apple, choking him.. He tried to push it all out into the Force but that did little to lessen his anxiety. 

Obi-Wan felt himself becoming more detached the closer they came to the ship. Anakin had taken one look at him when they had gotten away from the council and planted himself firmly at Obi-Wan’s side, it calmed him, and that seemed to be enough for Anakin. Artoo beeped and chirruped hurriedly beside him, making the young boy laugh,

“Master,” he said absently, Qui-Gon turned to him, carefully concealed concern in his eyes, he lowered his voice so Anakin couldn’t hear, “take care of him.” His master gave him an odd look- one he couldn’t quite place, but he was relieved when Qui-Gon nodded. He took Obi-Wan’s place beside Anakin and spoke serenely to him while Obi-Wan carried on ahead to the ship. His mind was frustratingly quiet, zoning in with single intent to keep his master alive. He didn’t think about what he would do after, or what might happen, all he knew was that he needed to protect Qui-Gon at all costs. He needed to speak to Padmé .

~

Anakin was happy to be amongst the hubbub of the ship again, he made sure to add an extra jacket to keep out the coldness of hyperspace. He bobbed and weaved around the crew that rushed about- doing all sorts of things- and ventured off to find Obi-Wan, the Jedi hadn’t spoken much since Qui-Gon said that he would be the one training him- he could feel the hurt coming from him- had Qui-Gon not told him? But he said he was going to be a Jedi? It didn’t make much sense.

He didn’t want to hurt Obi-Wan, but he was going to be a Jedi- wasn’t that a good thing? He worried his bottom lip and kept walking. He didn’t pay attention to the numerous twists and turns he took but he somehow found himself in the droid hold. He knew Artoo would be down there, maybe the little astromech had seen Obi-Wan.

He exited the main lift down to the hold and, letting out a small gasp- Obi-Wan and Padmé were there, right on the other side of the bay. They hadn’t seen him thankfully- too wrapped up in their own conversation to take much notice of anything else. He caught sight of Artoo and hid behind the droid, shushing it when it made a fussy beep.

Obi-Wan seemed anxious, eye flitting about but not truly focusing on anything- his shoulders were hunched and he leaned closer to Padmé . She didn’t seem very different, but she put a comforting hand on his shoulder and Anakin strained his ears but couldn’t hear what they were saying. They whispered to each other for a few more minutes and Anakin felt himself getting worked up- they were his friends weren’t they? What was going on? He scowled, peeking out from behind Artoo again.

He saw the difference in the way Obi-Wan talked to Padmé and the way he’d spoken to that other padawan, Quin. Obi-Wan was more tense, respectful with the Queen’s handmaiden- but with Quin there was an easiness to him- he was more relaxed than Anakin had ever seen him. He didn’t know if he liked that or not.

The turbolift dinged again and Anakin ducked behind Artoo once more- watching as one of the flight crew appeared- he watched as Obi-Wan and Padmé sprung apart, their secret conversation halted in its tracks and Anakin couldn’t help but feel a little conviction that his two friends were caught out leaving him out of things. The two of them nodded respectfully to each other before going their separate ways, leaving Anakin alone in the droid hold, a bitter taste in his mouth.

~

Despite his roiling anxiety he couldn’t help the smirk that came out when Padmé revealed herself to the Gungans. Qui-Gon cocked an eyebrow at him and he turned away to avoid bursting into laughter- which wasn’t helped by the gaping nine-year-old at his feet looking up at him with utter shock all over his face. He knew that Padmé was smart- and that whatever she was planning would ultimately help them to victory- he had to believe that, and while she carried on with her mission- he would with his. He would keep Qui-Gon safe, and be done with Maul… for the time being.

Obi-Wan could hear the battle from the inside of the citadel. He felt the familiar adrenaline lacing through his veins like ice in the face of the fight, something he should have been disturbed by, but took comfort in instead. Qui-Gon seemed to notice this in him and as they emerged from the tunnels into the courtyard below struck him with a look- one where Obi-Wan could clearly see the worry he had for his padawan. But it was too late for that.

With their backs pressed up against the wall Qui-Gon tore his eyes away from him and knelt down to Anakin’s height- still about a head or so taller,

“When we get inside, find somewhere to hide and stay there,” he said, Anakin nodded and mumbled an agreement- a little too enthusiastic to be true.

The eardrum-shattering bang of plasma hitting durasteel began the fight. The squawking droids were on them within a minute. It didn't take long until Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were back to back, swinging their sabers. He fell into Ataro easily and spun out of the way of several blaster shots, blocking two more and keeping close to Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan’s head spun as they made their way into the main hangar- it was  _ so close.  _ He could feel his anxiety take the physical form of Darth Maul, taunting him.

Padmé shouted for her pilots to get to their ships and out of the corner of his eyes he saw Anakin ducking for cover behind a starship. The droids were coming towards them in their dozens, he felt the heavy thrum of his lightsaber in his hands and the stench of burning metal and plastisteel burned the back of his throat raw. The battle outside was still raging and the rhythmic march of the battle droids matched the hard thumping of his heart against his ribs.

Qui-Gon called to Anakin to stay in the cockpit when the fighting in the hangar died down. The droids lay in heaps and an uneasy silence filled the room. Obi-Wan didn’t let himself breathe and shot a furtive glance to the main entrance  _ knowing  _ that that was where  _ he  _ would appear. He chanced one last look to Anakin, his fear burrowing deep into his heart at the painful thought that he might not survive to see the boy again. He steeled himself, telling himself over and over again that that was  _ okay.  _ All that mattered right now was keeping his own master alive.

When they turned back to the main entrance it opened, Obi-Wan’s stomach swooped as the all too familiar face of Darth Maul came into view. The bold red and black markings on his face made the unnatural gold of his eyes stand out. Padmé and the crew dispersed, leaving the two Jedi and the Sith alone in the hangar. He vaguely recalled Padmé saying something but didn’t care to listen, solely focused on the Zabrak. 

The Sith removed his hood, showing the horns protruding from his skull. Obi-Wan looked from Maul to Qui-Gon, then, with all the power of the force he could handle, he came forward and touched his Master’s temple. Qui-Gon fell to the ground. Unconscious. He pushed his Master’s body with the Force to a safer spot in the Hangar- out of harm's way for now. All he needed was a little time to draw the Sith away from him. He turned back to Maul,

“This.” Obi-Wan spat, shedding his outer cloak, “is between _ you,  _ and  _ me.” _

The Sith’s answering smile was broad, like that of a feral cat- just on the wrong side of unhinged. The rest of the battle was drowned out by the static hiss of lightsaber against lightsaber as they advanced. Obi-Wan gave ground, luring Maul away from the rest of them. Qui-Gon would be quick to wake himself from the hold Obi-Wan had over him. But he didn’t need long.

Spitting red plasma moved in large arcs and Obi-Wan gave himself to the Force, letting it guide his movements as he fell back into Soresu. His movements felt like the calling of an old friend, the ghost of another lifetime shadowing his attacks. Maul was ready for him- the twin bladed ‘saber countering his defense. Obi-Wan narrowly dodged a kick and struck low before falling back. He moved with practised ease, the Zabrak drew backwards, following him through the doors and into the corridor surrounding the palace generator complex. 

His heartbeat hit against his ribs with righteous fury, propelling him forward, the spitting zap of the shielding coming closer and closer as they moved.

“You are not going to win this,  _ Jedi.”  _ Maul sneered, his accent something similar to Obi-Wan’s own.

“I wouldn’t speak so soon,  _ Sith.”  _ Obi-Wan countered, stepping back a split second before the shielding created a blood red barrier between them.

Obi-Wan knew they were evenly matched- he could do this on his own, but he could feel his master fighting against his consciousness- trying to break free. Obi-Wan heaved in a breath, he just needed a little more  _ time.  _ Maul experimentally tapped the ray shield with his ‘saber, the sonic hiss that followed proved the fate of anyone who dared try to cross it.

The moment the shield dropped Obi-Wan was on him, pushing him closer and closer to the main reactor.  _ Just a little farther, Kenobi,  _ he reminded himself. Maul did not let up, his moves becoming more and more unpredictable. The muscles in Obi-Wan’s arms screamed and the acrid smell of plasma and sweat pricked tears to his eyes. 

He swallowed and stared into those gold eyes with every strike and counter-strike. He remembered those eyes. He remembered the fever-bright light in them as he ran Qui-Gon through. They were there. They were  _ there. _

In a moment he let go of his hold on Qui-Gon that kept his Master unconscious. He felt the full flow of the Force return to him and his movements become less stilted. He sneered at the Zabrak, spinning on his heel and landing a swift kick to his chest. The white light of the circular room gave way to the gaping hole at its center and as they passed over the spot Qui-Gon would have met his end Obi-Wan felt a shiver go up his spine.

He could feel his master getting closer and blocked an attack that was just a  _ touch  _ too close for comfort. This needed to end. Now.

“I’ll see you in another life.” Obi-Wan said, before twirling his lightsaber in his left hand, and feeling it slice through flesh.

The look in Maul’s eyes was identical the second time. It was a look no man could forget. Maul’s body fell back into the chasm, disappearing into the white light. It was over.

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon’s voice pulled him from his trance, he whirled around. Alive. Qui-Gon was alive. “Obi-Wan  _ Kenobi!”  _ and angry. Qui-Gon was very angry.

The ray shields dropped and Obi-Wan couldn’t think of much more than  _ he’s alive! he's alive! he’s alive!  _ He didn’t care for the furious expression of his master as he leaped forward and for the first time since he was ten years old he  _ hugged  _ him. Because his plan had  _ worked.  _ The Sith was gone, Qui-Gon was alive. He let go of his Master- who had very confusedly pat him on the back.

“He’s dead.” Qui-Gon said suddenly, “you killed a Sith Lord.” 

Obi-Wan blinked, then smiled, then felt his eyes roll back into his head as he passed out.

~

Obi-Wan awoke to something very small clutching his hand. He pried his eyes open and was met with the sleeping form of Anakin, blond head resting on the side of the medbay bed he was laying in. He looked around- the sterile white walls of the Temple Healing Halls. He was back on Coruscant.

“It’s good to see you awake,” Qui-Gon said from the doorway, Obi-Wan let out a small gasp. “He hasn’t left your side you know,” his Master came closer, taking a seat on the opposite side to Anakin, who was still fast asleep.

“Master- how long have I been asleep?” Obi-Wan asked, Qui-Gon sighed,

“Three days.” He said, “you killed a  _ Sith,  _ Obi-Wan- by  _ yourself.” _

“I like to think I’m not entirely incompetant you know,” he replied at an attempt at humour. Qui-Gon didn’t laugh, and instead fixed him with a stern gaze,

“Why did you knock me out? Why did you not let me fight?” Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, there was a little part of him that believed he would die on Naboo… believed- or hoped, one of the two. He didn’t really plan much in the way of how he would explain himself when it came down to it.

“I wanted to prove myself.” He lied, “I believed the only way I could do that was by defeating the Sith.” 

Qui-Gon didn’t believe him, he could see it, “the Obi-Wan Kenobi I know would never do something so reckless.” Obi-Wan cringed internally, trying to come up with an excuse when- “So I hope you understand what you are doing.”

Obi-Wan stared at his Master in shock, then nodded, “I do.” Qui-Gon seemed satisfied with that, and rose to leave, Obi-Wan reached out and caught his sleeve, careful not to jostle Anakin, “when you train him, Master… keep him away from Senator Palpatine,” Qui-Gon opened his mouth to question him, but Obi-Wan interrupted, gripping him tighter, “Promise me, Qui-Gon. Keep him away from Palpatine.”

The Sith Lord’s name was sour on his tongue. He looked to Anakin, then back at his Master; Qui-Gon nodded mutely, then turned and left. Obi-Wan let out a breath of relief. He was about to let his head fall back and fall asleep again but something rustled by his side and he was met with bleary blue eyes,

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin cried, launching himself towards the padawan, 

“Hello there,” Obi-Wan chuckled,

Anakin pulled back, “Master Qui-Gon told me you defeated a  _ Sith Lord!  _ Is that true? Are you going to be a knight now?” He was wide eyed and fully awake now, talking a mile a minute about how he helped destroy the droid Control Ship, definitely not throwing Obi-Wan into cardiac arrest. 

“You did tell me you were going to be the best pilot in the galaxy,” Obi-Wan said fondly, “I’m very proud of you, Anakin.” 

Anakin grinned at him; Obi-Wan let himself relax for a minute, listening to the boy’s description of what happened outside his battle with Maul. Obi-Wan was halfway through his own story when a knock at the door came and the form of Quinlan Vos appeared. The other padawan gave Obi-Wan a once over and a look that said  _ What the kriff have you done? _

“I thought Qui-Gon told you not to get into any trouble,” Quin huffed, Obi-Wan smothered a smirk, lightly punching the other Jedi in the arm. Though through his joking demeanor he could see his friend was actually worried- he was touched that Vos cared for him so much and placed a placating hand on his arm,

“I’m fine, Quin, really.” He said, Quin seemed to relax and covered Obi-Wan’s hand with his own, nodding silently. It was at that point that Anakin launched into another story about the battle, drawing their attention away from each other. 

His heart beat fitfully in his chest as he stood outside the Council chambers once more. His mouth ran dry and he felt like he was fumbling through the darkness every time he blinked. He was alone, Qui-Gon and Anakin already inside. Padmé had told him that she would be staying until sundown, and that he would meet her in the hangar. 

With a final, calming breath he stepped into the circular chamber. The eyes of the council fell to him- some of them were proud, like the shining eyes of Plo Koon, and the sharp smile of Shaak Ti, some of them were weary and appraising, like Ki-Adi-Mundi. Mace Windu looked rather impressed, which disturbed him more than anything else. 

He would miss them- he knew he would. He let his gaze linger on Anakin, and his blinding smile.  _ This is the right choice, Kenobi,  _ he reminded himself. He glanced at Yoda, but could not read his expression. Obi-Wan took his place beside Qui-Gon. Mace Windu sat in front of them, dark eyes studying their every move.

“Padawan Kenobi,” Mace said, a softness to his voice, “you have defeated a Sith Lord, and the council believes that has proven you worthy of becoming a knight.”

He felt the crushing pride coming off Anakin in waves. He clenched his jaw,

“I cannot accept.” He said, surprising himself at the steadiness of his voice. The Council chamber erupted in confused murmurs and Obi-Wan fought to keep his head from falling. He would not falter. Mace inclined his head, surprise evident on his face,

“Why is that?” He asked,

“I am leaving the Jedi Order.” Obi-Wan replied. He heard a gasp from Anakin, and out of the corner of his eye saw the shocked look of Qui-Gon and the other council members. He didn’t turn his head, he couldn’t, for fear that he’d break. 

“What are you talking about, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked him bewilderedly, he swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at his Master. He pushed down his fear and his sadness as it welled in his chest, crying out in pain and begging him to just  _ stay, stay here where it is safe.  _ He knew he couldn’t. 

“It is something that I know I must do.” He said, then forced himself to look down at Anakin. He could feel the child’s confusion, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything, so instead of speaking he tore his eyes away, facing the Council for the last time.

“My path does not lie here,” he said slowly, aware of the way his voice threatened to break, “the Force has another task for me, and I hope that this will not be the last time I see you.”

“Where go, will you?” Yoda said at last, gaze still unreadable, 

“Naboo,” he replied, “the Queen has offered me residence there.” He didn’t venture further, but that seemed enough to satisfy the Jedi Masters.

“Will he still be a knight?” Anakin piped up, the gaze turned to him, but he was still looking at Obi-Wan. Yoda let out a little chuckle, and turned to Mace, a look passed between them before Mace let out a defeated sigh,

“We may grant the rank of Jedi Knight to Padawan Kenobi, if he chooses to leave the Order after such, it is not within our power to question it.” A low murmur of agreement went through the council.

Obi-Wan knew they were playing favourites, and he smothered the small and sad smile that threatened to expose him, but he knew they could see it anyway. He knew that no matter what a hardened exterior Mace put on the outside that he had a soft spot for those few people he cared about. This had been his home for the better part of fifteen years, and when he looked around at the people that had raised him, he couldn’t help the ache in his heart at the thought of leaving- but he was right; his path was not at the temple.

He finally turned back to Anakin, who was scowling at him with the indignance of someone who knew they were not going to see each other for a long time and wouldn’t accept it. Obi-Wan thought back to his promise to Shmi Skywalker and his heart broke. He knelt down, and in a very un-jedi like fashion pulled the boy into a hug. He could feel the half-hearted disapproval of the rest of them, but that was okay, he wouldn’t have to worry about that for long.

“You can do this, Ani,” he muttered into his hair, “we’ll see each other again.”

And in his heart of hearts, he believed it.

  
  


The light was disappearing and the nights were always cold on Coruscant, but it prickled his skin in a way that made Obi-Wan feel alive. He felt lighter- and not just because his usual Jedi robes were gone- though he couldn’t find his outer robe, he thought he might have left it in the Healing Halls. He wore his civilian clothes instead, with a plane blue poncho over them that he’d gotten it at a market a few years back and had been hesitant to part with it since, even though Quin had called it an  _ ‘abomination to the fashion industry’  _ on multiple occasions.

The Hangar was brightly lit and he could see Padmé and her handmaidens and bodyguard waiting for him. He was so thankful she was willing to help him- she didn’t know the whole truth… he didn’t think he could ever tell  _ anyone  _ that… but she knew that they needed to work together, and had taken him on as an advisor.

He could feel it rising in his chest with every step, the thunder that moved with him and the Force singing in his ears. This was the beginning. Not the end. He would right the wrongs and fix the mistakes that had led history down a different path. Obi-Wan jumped when he heard a shout from behind, and turned to see Qui-Gon, Quinlan, and Anakin standing a few meters away- of course he had said goodbye to them, but it had been rushed as he knew he was going to be late to meet the Queen. It just hadn’t been enough.

He let himself smile as brightly as he could, meeting Anakin in the middle and falling to his knees for a hug. “I’m going to miss you too, Anakin,” he chuckled, feeling a bittersweet happiness grip his heart. Anakin looked up at him with tears in his eyes before rifling in his pockets, pulling out a little charm on a leather string,

“It’s a Jappor Snippet,” he sniffed, “for you to remember me.”

Obi-Wan took the charm, tying it around his neck, “I’ll never forget you, that I can promise.”

Anakin threw his arms around him and Obi-Wan looked up at his Master and his best friend, they both seemed more than a little sniffy, and Obi-Wan allowed himself a small huff of amusement,

“I never thought I’d be able to get such a strong reaction out of you, Master,” he said, failing to catch himself as he used the sentiment, 

Qui-Gon shook his head, “I am no longer your Master, Obi-Wan,” 

“I know.” He said, but couldn’t help himself from smiling, ruffling Anakin’s newly trimmed hair, 

He turned to Quin, “Are you really crying on me, Vos?” He cocked an eyebrow, Quin threw him a heatless glare and pulled him in for a hug,

“Don’t forget us, yeah?”

“Never.”

He took a step back from the trio, letting himself wipe a few stray tears from the corners of his eyes. He didn’t take his eyes off them until he was at the ramp. Obi-Wan looked down at the charm Anakin had given him, it was beautifully carved, and he smoothed his thumb across it. He smiled at Padmé and walked with her onto the ship, not trusting himself to look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh this poor guy  
> there will be a significant time skip in the next chapter- I'm really nervous for it because I'm so happy you guys like Part I and I don't want to disappoint you in Part II  
> Your comments honestly give me so much joy and I love reading them, it means so much to me that you like this story so thank you so much


	7. When It's Over You'll Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was radio silence in the Council chamber. Several other Masters had let out small gasps, but Anakin couldn’t hear any of it, his mind was full of white noise and Windu’s voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part II!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm terrified of this being bad- I had to split this chapter up because it got to 10k and I didn't want to put you through that so it still might be a little dodgy.

Part II

_[Ten Years Later]_

Anakin looked back over the strewn out parts of the droid he was fixing, grimacing at the absolute chaos he’d created for himself. Tinkering had gotten pretty out of hand and he groaned as the first rays of daylight came streaming in through the blinds. He peeked out over the Coruscanti skyline and watched the sun turn the tall spikes of buildings into glowing crystals, the gold light making them burn like stars.

He yawned and tossed his little project onto his workbench- thoroughly giving up. He was too tired to do much else than lean back in his chair and keep his eyes closed. He sighed as his thoughts strayed to Obi-Wan as they had been doing so as of late. It was frustrating. Nobody at the Temple had heard from him in ten years, Anakin remembered his voice, and the smile, and the image of him in the Healing Halls after coming back from Naboo. He remembered his light too, kriff, he’d never forget that light. He had been wrong, as a child, not all Jedi shone like that- they were brighter and stronger- but never like the way he remembered Obi-Wan being.

The Chancellor had told him it was because Obi-Wan had been the first Jedi he’d met- and on the face of it Anakin agreed with him… but something in his heart just told him that it was different, that the Jedi he had known was special in some way. Of course he didn’t tell the Chancellor that, it was embarrassing enough to admit to himself. 

Before he knew it the sun had risen higher in the sky and Qui-Gon was knocking on his door. Anakin groaned and got to his feet, feeling sleep-heavy and in desperate need of a cup of caf.

“Anakin- we’ve been summoned by the Council- we need to go,” He groaned louder in reply and looked wistfully to his bed, regretting not going to sleep at a decent hour.

As much as he hated to admit it, there was still a part of him that was still in awe of the Jedi Temple. The morning light filtered in through the stained transparisteel, casting long and colourful shadows across the cavernous hall. Several bridges connected one side of the Temple to the other overhead, and intricate carvings melded stone and durasteel into stories of the Old times, when Jedi were at their height.

He reached out a hand as they walked and traced the carvings running across the wall next to him. It was too early for many others to be out, and the halls were quiet enough for him to just faintly hear the Coruscant traffic outside. He smiled slightly, and looked up at his Master, Qui-Gon hadn’t changed much since he was a boy- maybe a little greyer, but there wasn’t that much of a difference.

Qui-Gon had been an… interesting Master, they had gotten into some interesting positions that came with _living in the moment._ If living in the moment meant getting themselves stranded on a jungle planet with rabid Gundarks on their tail. Anakin sometimes wondered if the old man was really as wise as he looked or was just faking it long enough to get away with all the crazy bantha shit he did. Knowing Qui-Gon it was probably the former.

“What do the Council want us for this early in the morning, Master?” Anakin asked, stifling another yawn, Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow, seeming just as perplexed as his padawan,

“In all honesty- I have no idea.”

_Helpful, thank you,_ Anakin thought, rolling his eyes.

The Council chamber was full, and the scrutinizing eyes of Mace Windu never failed to make Anakin uncomfortable. He could sense their distrust, and how they didn’t want him there. He held Windu’s gaze, unwilling to relent and give in, proving how weak he was. He clenched his jaw. He was _not_ weak.

“Master Qui-Gon, Padawan Skywalker,” Ki-Adi-Mundi said, forcing both Windu and Anakin’s attention towards the Cerean. The two of them bowed, and turned to the Council,

“I understand this must be important for such an impromptu meeting,” Qui-Gon said, Yoda leaned forward,

“A matter of the Senate, it is.” He croaked, for some reason Anakin had always been fond of the creature, whether it be because of his wise words or the fact that he looked like Dagobarian raisin bread was up for interpretation. He smothered a smile at the thought, happily passing it on to Qui-Gon through their training bond. His Master didn’t have much of an outward reaction, but a small twitch at the corner of his mouth proved it was just a facade. 

“The Senator for Naboo and the Senator for Stewjon were travelling together to Coruscant when their ship was attacked by pirates. Senator Amidala of Naboo is in safe custody, however the Senator for Stewjon is missing.”

“What would you like us to do?” Qui-Gon asked,

“Protect Senator Amidala,” Windu said sternly, “when we know more about the possible kidnapping we will reconvene.” Anakin could sense they were holding something back, and stepped forward,

“"What is the name of the Stewjoni Senator?" He asked, Windu sent a reluctant look at Yoda before answering,

"Kenobi, Senator Kenobi."

There was radio silence in the Council chamber. Several other Masters had let out small gasps, but Anakin couldn’t hear any of it, his mind was full of white noise and Windu’s voice saying: _Senator Kenobi, Senator Kenobi, Senator Kenobi_ over and over again. It wasn’t possible- it _couldn’t_ be possible.

Anakin blinked, going through several emotions all at once; elation, panic, fear, excitement, _hope._ A Senator? That’s what Obi-Wan had left them to become? _Assuming it_ is _Obi-Wan,_ a voice in the back of his head said, _._ He pushed the thought away, trying to unpick the thread of doubt that was sewing into his heart.

“Get our hopes up, we must not.” Yoda said, as if reading Anakin’s mind- Anakin felt uncomfortable at the thought of the little creature poking around his head. “The Kenobi we knew, it may not be.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes, the answer was layered, meant to mean something else. He didn’t like it. Obi-Wan was… he was _Obi-Wan._ He was the Jedi that saved him, the one that fought for him alongside Qui-Gon. The Chancellor was right, they didn’t _care._ How could they just sit and _wait_ while one of their own was out there? How could they doubt who this could be? Could they not feel it? Inky black coils of anger and frustration wrapped themselves around him. He hated how the council could just sit by while one of their own was in danger- how they could passively say that this was not their problem? 

“Why can’t we just investigate Obi-Wan’s disappearance? Surely if these pirates have taken him-” He bit his lip hard as they addressed the Council chamber- 

“We have received no ransom demands, Skywalker,” Windu said, an edge to his voice. Anakin ground his teeth. They had stuck him on bodyguard duty because they didn’t _trust_ him. “If Obi-Wan is in _danger-”_

“We are looking into it.” Windu emphasised, shutting down any attempt at further conversation. The Jedi Master regarded them both with a cautious expression, “your mission, _now,_ is to protect Senator Amidala from any further attempts on her life. The Chancellor fears someone may be after her.” 

Anakin nodded stiffly, grinding his teeth and trying his very best to quell the anger and resentment building inside him; they were dismissed and he followed Qui-Gon out of the chamber, a bitter taste in his mouth.

  
  


~

Qui-Gon noticed the change in his student as they reached the upper levels of the Senatorial apartment block. He became less angry and more restless, messing with his lightsaber hilt and re-rolling his robe sleeves several times,

“Is there something on your min-”

“If it _is_ Obi-Wan-” 

_Ah, there it is._

Anakin began rambling about the council and his frustrations. Qui-Gon was used to this by now, Anakin was a wildly different apprentice to what Obi-Wan had been. Anakin’s emotions drove him- they made him reckless, yes, but they also made him kind and empathetic and he committed things with his whole heart. Obi-Wan had controlled his emotions to the point of suppression, anxiety about the future forever clouding his judgement.

In other ways he could see their similarities- their drive to protect the ones they care about and their love. They could be as different as night and day- but they would never be oil and water.

Qui-Gon pondered the last time he had seen Obi-Wan Kenobi, they way that his shoulders had slumped when he had turned around after killing that Sith. The relief and sadness in his eyes. Something had changed that day. Qui-Gon could feel it. 

“- If they would let us help we might be able to get to him faster and make sure these pirates get what they deserve!” He folded his arms over his chest and huffed, 

Qui-Gon looked down at his apprentice, “If you truly believe that there is a danger we must act on it.” It was true- Anakin’s unusual affinity to the force meant he was more likely to be right than wrong.

“Really?” He asked, staring up at his Master with a cautious anticipation,

“It does not do well to try and see the future- but do what is needed in the moment.” Qui-Gon replied with a knowing lilt to his voice.

Anakin smirked, bouncing on the balls of his feet as the turbolift came to a halt. “We need to question Senator Amidala.”

~

Anakin was glad to see Padmé. They hadn’t spoken in such a long time and he had missed her. She was more beautiful than ever- he had always thought she was beautiful- but now she had her hair back in several elegant braids, intertwined with red ribbons and stones that complemented her long orange dress. He’d had a crush on her when he was younger- and had he not been so distracted at the thought of Obi-Wan being in danger he might have revisited the thought.

“Padmé,” Anakin said, she sat across from him and Qui-Gon on a plush couch, “can you tell us what happened to you when the ship was attacked?” 

She frowned, “When we came out of hyperspace we were ambushed- they hit us with _something_ that destabilized our shields. Then they boarded us and took Obi-Wan.” Padmé scowled, “it was methodical. They knew what they were doing and who they were taking.”

Qui-Gon leaned forward, “what do you mean?” Anakin felt a shift in Padmé’s demeanor, she was no longer worried, she looked angry, and determined, Qui-Gon held a very different composure- one of calm deliberation, but they both seemed to be on the same page.

“Could it be possible that they were there for Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, Padmé turned to him with a look he couldn’t read. He wanted to ask her what had happened to him after they’d left on that ship, and where he’d been all these years. But there were more pressing matters to attend to.

“It would be possible-” Qui-Gon agreed, “but Obi-Wan is a new Senator- is it because he’s a Jedi?” Padmé shook her head, 

“I don’t know, he left ten years ago… and they didn’t care for me, they went straight for Obi-Wan.”

“Whatever the reason is we need to find out what we can so that we can rescue him.” Anakin said harshly, grinding his jaw, Obi-Wan hadn’t come to the Senate yet- he had no control or influence. And the longer they sat here the less time they had to get him back.

“The Jedi Council has given you permission to launch an investigation?” 

Anakin looked up at her and then to Qui-Gon, “Not exactly-”

Padmé raised an eyebrow, with the look of someone caught between disappointed and impressed. Anakin avoided her eyes, “we need to know where they’re going- did you hear anything from them?” 

There was a stagnant silence between the three of them as the wheels turned in their heads. Anakin picked at the hem of his sleeve, the Jedi robes always looked so heavy to him as a kid, but they were made of a light material that flexed with his movement- it was only the outer robe that was heavy, but that one wasn’t tailored to _him_.

He closed his eyes and let the Force wash over him, trying to stamp out the noise that buzzed constantly in the back of his head. He scrunched his eyes shut, frustration building within him. _Ugh._ “Did they mention any names?”

Padmé pursed her lips, “when I was being dragged away… Tandankin, I heard the name Tandankin.” 

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes, “Tandankin isn’t a person- it’s a system, that might be where they’re taking him.” 

“Then we have to go? Don’t we?” Anakin said, shifting on the couch to face his Master- who was unusually cautious, why were they still here? They know where Obi-Wan was taken. He sat, restless energy feeding like a livewire through his veins. He dragged his eyes over to Padmé and then back to his Master. The buzzing in the back of his head had gotten louder and he forced himself to relax- living in the moment instead of worrying what could possibly be happening to him.

“We cannot go,” Qui-Gon said, Anakin’s eyes widened, “Anakin you’ll need to stay here with Padmé- keep her safe, _your mission is to protect her._ I will tell the Council.” His Master rose from his seat and didn’t acknowledge the incredulous looks the other two were giving him- Anakin was about to open his mouth but Padmé beat him to it

“We cannot just _wait._ ” she rose from her seat, eyes blazing, “Obi-Wan is my friend. I will not just sit down and let those pirates take him for ransom when I can do something about it.”

Qui-Gon turned from where he was near the doorway, infuriatingly calm. Anakin followed suit with Padmé and stood from his seat. She was right- Obi-Wan was in danger and if nobody else was willing to act they would.

“I’m sure your heart is in the right place, Senator,” Qui-Gon said with a twinkle in his eye, “But I do not believe it would be proper for a Senator and two Jedi to disobey a direct order from the council. I cannot allow my padawan and a Senator to leave the planet on a hunch.”

Anakin blinked several times, trying to make sense of what his Master was saying- annoyance burned deep inside him, searing his ribs like carbon scoring. “We _have to.”_ Anakin spat, Qui-Gon lifted a hand to silence him,

“Anakin,” he said sternly, then addressed the two of them, “your mission is to protect Senator Amidala, you are to be with her at all times. All. Times.” Padmé let out a small gasp, a wicked smirk replacing her stormy expression. 

Anakin looked between the two of them, she raised an eyebrow at him, “the hangar. Sundown.” Was all she said. _What? Why- oh._ Anakin’s anger washed away like the crashing of a wave. He stared at them both, finally catching up.

“Alright,” he said, Qui-Gon nodded to the both of them, 

“We _will_ get Obi-Wan back,

~

For what it was worth, the cell they threw him in was pretty comfortable. It was still cold and smelled like the inside of a Wampa cave, but there was a thin mattress in the corner and the energy shields surrounding the cage provided enough light to see his captor from where he was kneeling.

Obi-Wan looked down at the Force-suppressant cuffs the pirates had clamped him in when he’d first been hauled off the ship. Whoever wanted to stop him returning to Coruscant knew what they were doing, and wanted to make sure he wouldn't be able to escape. The world felt muted without the Force, like he had been dunked under water and couldn’t fight his way back to the surface. He tried to move and winced, a sharp pain lacing up his side from where they’d kicked him- he could feel the bruises blooming on his jaw from where one of them had punched him and grimaced at the taste of blood on his lips.

They’d been ambushed when they’d come out of hyperspace- hit with some sort of canon- he didn’t remember much after that, there had been a fight and he just hadn’t had enough time to get to his lightsaber. He struggled against his bindings, grunting as electrical pulses wracked his body, lighting his veins on fire and making every bone in his spine feel as though it had been snapped in two. He drew several ragged breaths and leaned forward, shivering at the cold that seeped through the tears in his clothes. He hoped Padmé had been able to get to Coruscant and alert someone there, he seemed to be the only one that was taken but he couldn’t be sure as they’d knocked him out before leaving the ship.

“Don’t worry Senator,” A voice came from the other side of the bars, the tattooed face of a Zabrak appeared in the red light of the Force shields, creating a ghostly red glow on their pure white skin. A familiar face Obi-Wan had tried so hard to forget flashed across his eyes- _This isn’t Maul_ he told himself, _this is a pirate, nothing more._ “You’ll be out of here soon enough.”

Obi-Wan curled his lip, he felt like cotton had been stuffed in his ears, “I have no sway in the Senate, you idiot,” he bit out. “You won't get anything from me.”

The Zabrak smiled, baring his teeth, “I don’t care about the _Senate._ Someone paid a handsome price for you.” Obi-Wan lifted his head, trying to drown out his nausea from the exhaustion, _keep him talking, Kenobi,_

“I’m flattered, truly,” he said with a mocking lilt, “who might want me so badly? I should like to buy them a drink- you know-” he grunted, trying to move off of his knees and stretch his legs out, “- for all the trouble they went through.”

“These are not the kind of people you would buy a drink for, Senator,” the Zabrak chuckled,

“No?” Obi-Wan asked, “a muffin basket maybe?”

The Zabrak laughed, “You’re a funny one Senator-” he turned and shouted down a hallway- “oi! Mick! Come listen to the funny man!” Another figure soon emerged- Mick, he assumed. This one was human- Corellian maybe- it was hard to tell through the red shielding. He had short, close cropped black hair, tanned skin and several scars across his face running from his left eyebrow to the right corner of his lips. Obi-Wan might have though he was attractive- if, you know, they’d met at a cantina and not while he was being kidnapped.

“Funny man huh?” Mick’s voice was gravelly, the sort of voice that goes along with smoking death sticks for the better part of your life. His leather jacket creaked as he crouched down to Obi-Wan’s level and smirked. “One of the prettier ones definitely,”

The Zabrak made a disgusted noise, then a female voice called from down the same hallway where Mick had come through; “Can we _please_ stop flirting with the hostage? It’s bad enough we had to rough him up a little on the way here!”

Obi-Wan forced out a chuckle, “so the broken ribs _weren’t_ a part of the original plan then?”

The female voice rose from the hallway again, much more violent this time- “YOU FUCKS BROKE HIS RIBS?! THEY’RE GONNA TAKE THAT OUT OUR PAYCHECK!” 

Obi-Wan chuckled for real at the two men’s flinch- these idiots weren’t a threat- just mercenaries looking for a payday. It made the black haired one much more attractive when he knew he wasn’t trying to kill him. The human gave him a jaunty salute and a wink before standing upright, motioning for the Zabrak to follow him into what he guessed was the cockpit. Obi-Wan let his head roll forward again- the shooting pain in his spine turning to a dull ache. 

There were no windows in his little cell, but he could see the faint blue light of hyperspace just beyond the door, seeping through the cracks where it had been worn down at the bottom. He took in the ship around him, it was old- but well looked after. The panelling looked like it had been replaced a hundred times over, and there was metal wiring sticking out in several places. It looked well-worn, a home to these people. He wondered faintly- what he actually would have done when he got back to Coruscant; would he have gone to the Temple? Would he have gone to see Qui-Gon and Anakin? 

_Anakin._ That was a name he’d thought about every day since he’d left. He knew he would grow up into a great Jedi, and despite not seeing him in person for the past ten years Qui-Gon had sent him messages about his progress. He didn’t return any of them, he couldn’t bring himself to. Anakin needed to grow on his own- with a different Master to make sure that none of the mistakes _he_ had made came into play here. Qui-Gon and himself were so different- and different was what this life needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'm not gonna hurt him.... too badly.  
> I also might have meant to make these pirates mean but like?? they kidnapped Obi-Wan and literally all his enemies love him so you get these lot (who may or may not be back depending on how much you like them).


	8. In Your Bright Blue Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A part of him that had been pulling itself in several different directions since he had left the Jedi Order; that had been ripped and torn and put back together from the moment he fell back into this life finally pulled itself back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello There  
> did someone say 5k chapter + a reunion???? no??? WELL THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE GETTING   
> This week has been a weird one, I've been pretty sick but I'm getting better and I'm really glad to get this chapter out- I'm still not sure how I feel about Part II (I planned out Part I and Part III but apparently my big dumb brain forgot about Part II) and I'm MOSTLY winging it- I have several scenes in mind that I WANT to write and I just hope you guys are up for the clusterfuck that involves getting to them  
> love y'all

Anakin shouldered his satchel, keeping his footsteps light on the durasteel floor of the Temple. Qui-Gon and Padme were probably already at the hangar waiting for him- he would have been there earlier had Yoda not cornered him into a meditation session. 

Anakin scowled, it was well after sundown, and the bright white lights of the city blurred into one, the obnoxious neon signs throwing bursts of colour into the fray. Thankfully the speeder ride was short, and flying released at least some of the tension growing in his shoulders. Catching sight of Qui-Gon and Padme in the darkness he parked, they had all made sure to be as inconspicuous as possible, wearing civilian clothes and Anakin had tried his best to obscure his padawan braid. It was too well-recognised, even in the outer regions. 

Qui-Gon had sent him over to get everything they would need for the trip- luckily it would only be around six hours through hyperspace to Tandankin and he’d gotten a few extra ration bars- some spare clothes and medical supplies in case they needed them. He had a terrible feeling in his chest that they would.

Padmé was dressed in civilian clothes- a simple grey poncho and tactical belt with her hair braided back. It almost unnerved him to see his Master in his own civilian tunics and not his usual rumpled Jedi robes. He jogged towards them and their ship, sending an apologetic look to the pair,

“Karking Master Yoda made me meditate with him,” he grumbled, “wrinkly old fuck,”

“Anakin!” Qui-Gon chided, Anakin rolled his eyes, knowing that Qui-Gon had used much more colourful terms to describe the Council on more than one occasion.

“I’ve paid off the guards at the control tower to keep our signature off the records-” Padmé said, shouldering her own bag, “but we need to hurry,” 

Getting off Coruscant was easier said than done; Anakin prided himself on being an exceptional pilot- one of the very best in the galaxy, but Coruscant was a  _ fucking  _ nightmare.

“I’m going to stick my head through a viewport and start screaming,” he said to Qui-Gon, who just chuckled in response. They made their way through the kerfuffle of night traffic and the dark blue of the Coruscanti night sky soon gave way to the inky blackness of space. While Anakin steered the three of them towards an open airfield Qui-Gon punched in the coordinates to Tandankin. He gripped the controls tighter, fear like ice in his veins.

~

He must have fallen asleep- or passed out- one of the two, because he blinked and the next moment he opened his eyes a Twi’lek woman was staring at him from the other side of the shields, holding a tray of rations. She had pale blue skin and her head tails were half covered by a patterned red headband. She was dressed similarly to the other crew, with a heavy duty jacket and big stomping boots, but her expression was somewhat soft- pitying.

Obi-Wan groaned weakly, and he saw her grimace, “I’m sorry about the boys-” She said, her voice was rough but soothing, quiet against the hum of the shields, “though you did put up one hell of a fight- Reko’s got a wicked bruise.”

Obi-Wan blinked the gunk and what was probably dried blood out of his eyes as a small slot in the shield opened and the food was pushed through, “Thank you-” he got out, “You’re probably the nicest mercenaries I’ve been kidnapped by,”

“We aren’t usually mercenaries- just smugglers tight on credits.” The Twi’lek replied, “I’m Triva, by the way, you’ve already met Reko and Mick.”

“Charming gentlemen,” Obi-Wan replied with a half-hearted smirk, Triva hummed, 

“We wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t  _ have  _ to.” She said, Obi-Wan looked at her and saw real sympathy in her eyes. None of them really looked like they wanted to do it- and this cell seemed makeshift for a human- more for animals than anything else. It was perfectly reasonable they were smugglers, caught in a bad deal with no way out, but still, he was weary.

“Don’t let it get to you- I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He saw her visibly relax, but then looked back down at his wrists and winced at the blistering flesh where the cuffs had zapped him; “where did you get these?” He asked, only half expecting to get an honest answer,

“Employer,” she replied casually, then sent him a smirk, “whoever you are, Senator, someone thinks you’re dangerous.”

“Little me?” Obi-Wan huffed sarcastically, Triva looked down at her hands and turned to leave- but stopped and looked back for a moment-

“Watch out for Mick-” she said with a cheeky wink- “he likes danger more than the average idiot.”

Obi-Wan felt when they got out of hyperspace because his insides tried to desperately become his  _ outsides.  _ He’d eaten what he could of the rations- they were surprisingly good considering, although from the warning gurgle in his stomach it might have been a bad idea. He scrunched his eyes shut, trying to force the bile back down his throat. Just as he got his breathing under control the door opened, revealing Reko and Mick, they both looked dubiously at each other before disengaging the shields and stepping inside the cell.

“Nice to see you again, gentlemen,” Obi-Wan said as they lifted him to his feet- luckily he could support his own weight well enough despite the painful twinge in his knees at the effort, though his rips felt like they might try and rip through his skin at any moment.

Reko rolled his eyes, “Definitely your type Mick,” Obi-Wan shook his head as they both took him by each arm and led him out of the ship.

He flinched against the harsh light of whatever rock they’d landed on. The sky was a clear teal and flecked with small, puffy white and grey clouds. Obi-Wan looked around, trying to get a better look at the ship he’d been brought here on: there were several modifications, including a haphazardly welded ion cannon to the front that must have been used to take out the Senatorial ship in the first place. He was almost impressed, but this hadn’t been planned by them. This  _ had  _ to have been orchestrated by someone who  _ knew  _ what they were doing.

Reko let go of him, leaving Obi-Wan in the capable hands of Mick. The Zabrak moved down the ramp towards Triva and another humanoid with long white hair and glassy blue eyes. They spoke in low, hushed tones before Reko scoffed. It was almost comical how they interacted, reminding him of the pack-bonded padawans back at the Temple when he was younger. They had all clearly known each other a long time, and even though the Force-dampening cuffs made him feel like he had cotton in his ears- there was just something telling him that they were good at heart.

That might have been the sentimental sap in him. Padmé had always told him he mellowed in his old age, despite only being twenty-seven.

“You would be kind enough to tell me where I’m going?” he said to the man next to him, “I mean, it would be the least you can do, considering the uh-” he held up his hands, showing off the cuffs, Mick let out a little huff of amusement,

“I promise you Senator if I’d met you anywhere else…” he shot him a sly look, then leaned closer, “We’re meant to drop you off at a certain point- the credits will be there and we’ll swap you for them.”

“Charming.” Obi-Wan sighed, “Do I get to know who my captor is or is it going to be another wonderful surprise?” 

“Another surprise, Senator,” Mick replied loftily,

They had to wait another few minutes before the three other crewmen made their way over, Reko took his place back at Obi-Wan’s side, holding onto his arm with a tight grip. Obi-Wan looked out over the landscape- apart from a stretch of forest to the west and the spire of what he assumed to be a tower there was nothing, no settlements or nearby towns; just grassy plains that swayed in the wind, creating waves of gold and green.

There was a softness to the planet, and Obi-Wan found it hard to believe any nefarious deals going down here. It was so peaceful, so different to that of a smugglers town like Socorro or the seedy underbelly of Coruscant. This may have been the work of trained mercenaries- but there was something more; something that made his head ache and his skin crawl in a hauntingly familiar way.

The white haired woman- an Arkanian he presumed, volunteered to stay with the ship. Reko, Mick and Triva surrounded him, carrying blasters and looking for any sign of danger in the tall grass. Obi-Wan knew to keep his mouth shut, if anything  _ was  _ hiding in the grass he didn’t want to be the one to alert it to their presence. If he could just let them leave with their money and figure out a way to get out of these Force forsaken cuffs he might be able to get to the nearest town to send a transmission to Padmé.

Slowly but surely they came closer to what looked like a large metal structure a mile or so away from where they’d landed. Mick let out a triumphant cry when Triva told them that it was the right place. Fear gathered in the pit of Obi-Wan’s stomach, he had a bad feeling about this. The building was little more than a heavy-duty shelter, abandoned from some sort of battle that had taken place years before. The durasteel was covered in rust, and the bolts that held it together looking like they’d seen better days. The inside was no better, it was dark and whatever warmth had been granted by the sun outside was null and void now. 

Obi-Wan shivered, his sleeves and tunic were ripped and his jacket did very little against the chilly draught that came from  _ somewhere _ . The four of them made their way down a set of stairs, leading them further underground. The lights were dim and flickering, intertwining cracks laced through the duracrete walls, leading them further down the spiral ladder deeper underground. When they reached the bottom the hallway was wider than he expected, enough for three people to stand side-by-side comfortably. The bunker was devoid of all life, abandoned some years ago. The hallway took a sharp turn as the trio moved again, Obi-Wan peeked through a few of the doors that had been left flung open, broken machinery and control boards lay covered in a thick layer of dust, torn to scraps. 

He held his breath as they finally reached the end, the room marked plain as day by the single light hanging over a cell. Mick gripped his arm harder, making him wince, Obi-Wan looked at him but the smuggler’s eyes stayed firmly ahead, jaw clenched. Suddenly he felt a hand hovering near his leg, slipping something into his palm. Obi-Wan straightened, not daring to hope what it might be.

The cell wasn’t unlike the one he’d just come from, a durasteel skeletal frame with red ray shielding. It was obviously out of place, put there for one specific purpose- to hold  _ him.  _ Obi-Wan wondered who might be so keen to get their hands on him, what sort of chain of command this was; in a morbid way it was kind of flattering, even when he was beaten and bruised, blacked out from the Force someone thought he was dangerous.

Just as Mick had told him- there on the floor outside the cell sat a duffle bag that clinked with the promise of credits when Reko jabbed it with his foot. 

“I suppose this is goodbye,” Obi-Wan sighed, “it truly  _ has  _ been a pleasure.” None of them replied, Triva led him to the cell and he stepped in without a word. Her face was hard, but he could see the apologetic look in her eyes, the look that said she wouldn’t do this if she didn’t have to. Obi-Wan wanted to tell her that it was alright, but only nodded solemnly in understanding.

He watched as Reko and Triva walked away, Mick nodding to him with a rueful smile before following them. Then all he could hear were the distant clinks of credits and muffled voices, getting farther and farther away. When they faded into nothing he set to work, examining his cuffs and his surroundings- there had been several turns to get to the cell, meaning it wouldn’t take much time to get back to the staircase to the surface. The shielding was impossible to get past unless he could take out the control box; he scanned the room, forcing his eyes to adjust to the dim light-  _ there-  _ it was a small panel on the left of the door where they’d come in, if he could just-

“You  _ are  _ a new one, aren’t you?” The voice sent a shiver up his spine, a half-there recognition, “I was surprised when they told me it was a Senator… but I’m not complaining.”

Asajj Ventress materialised from the shadows, Obi-Wan looked upwards and muttered a soft  _ why  _ to the Force, as though its favourite past time isn’t making his life a living tragic comedy. She was more or less how Obi-Wan remembered her, startlingly white skin and dark eyes full of delighted malice. That meant this had something to do with Sidious- but even now, after so long, his memories were still incomplete, some things were still lost. There was a higher chain of command, but he couldn’t place  _ who.  _

“There are better ways in getting into contact with me,” he drawled, “I mean-” he held up his hands to show off the cuffs “-I’m sure this is a little uncivilised- don’t you think?” Ventress laughed, then clicked her fingers- several more figures appeared, more lackeys, he presumed. Rattataki people, imposing and broad shouldered, hulking warriors with snow white faces and crimson red markings. Rattataki were gladiators- warriors of hand-to-hand combat. 

Ventress smiled at him, taunting, “But you do look good, darling.” She clicked her fingers again and the group formed a circle around his cage, blasters and clubs at the ready. He kept his fist clenched and made sure the key was hidden from Ventress’ view.

When the shields dropped he didn’t react, only stared straight ahead of him, Ventress looked almost disappointed, “I was hoping you’d put up more of a fight, make this interesting.” She sighed dramatically, “I don’t know what he wants with a Senator. You lot are  _ so  _ boring.”

That piqued Obi-Wan’s interest-“Who is your employer? It’s only right I should know who went through so much trouble just for me?”

Ventress was about to answer when an explosion outside made the walls of the chamber rattle. Obi-Wan swallowed, shrugging innocently when she turned back to him with a sneer, “it would seem your new friends don’t understand a fair deal.” She stepped into the little cell, grabbing his arm and igniting her lightsaber in her other hand. The other one safely clipped to her belt.

“Go deal with whatever’s out there- clear a path.” She barked. The mercenaries filed out of the room and Obi-Wan was pulled along, her nails digging into the exposed flesh of his arm. They made their way up the winding paths of the bunker- following the same path he and the smugglers had taken to get there.

Ventress’ lackeys moved on ahead, the natural light of day spilling from the door at the top of the staircase like blood from an open wound. Obi-Wan glanced at Ventress, mumbling a quick apology before dropping to the ground and kicking her legs out from under her, ignoring the excruciating protest from the rest of his body. She cried out and Obi-Wan swung his bound hands, hitting her in the face. 

On more than one occasion when he was a Padawan he’d been reprimanded for fighting dirty, and was told that it would never serve him well to ignore the honour of a fight -  _ well how do you like me now Mundi?  _ He thought bitterly, quickly slipping the key between his lips, bringing his wrists up and unlocking the cuffs.

He felt the Force wash over him again, bright and unyielding and lighting his nerve endings on fire. He lunged forward without a moment's hesitation, snatching the spare ‘saber from her belt and igniting it. Ventress got to her feet and took several steps back, rage twisting her expression.

“Much more like it,” she sneered,

“Oh you have  _ no  _ idea,” Obi-Wan replied tiredly. She advanced on him and he felt the phantom sting of plasma on his skin, blocking her attack and placing a swift kick to her stomach. There was more commotion at the surface and several loud shouts followed by blaster fire. He dodged another deadly swing, taking several steps up the stairs before turning back to fend her off once more- he was  _ so close. _

His ribs screamed and sweat dripped down his back; in a desperate attempt to throw her off he reached out, feeling out the cracks in the roof above them, feeling the durateel plating creak and bow under the pressure of the Force. He brought his hands down and let it tumble over Ventress, burying her in several feet of dirt. He knew it wouldn’t hold her for long- he  _ had  _ to get to the surface, he’d have a better chance there than anything else.

The light became brighter and brighter the closer he got, and the bunker doors bashed open with an almighty crash. Obi-Wan blinked against the sun beaming down overhead, shielding his eyes and skidding to a halt- Triva and Mick were locked in battle with two of Ventress’ minions- hiding behind a boulder about ten metres from the entrance. Reko was swinging some sort of stick- having somehow disarmed one of them. 

He didn’t have time to think about what had happened, although the smouldering remains of several others seemed to give him a pretty good idea. He surged forward, deflecting blaster shots from both sides. He stood ground in front of Reko, slicing through the Rattataki’s armour. Before much else could happen another was on them, Reko leaped forward and grabbed a discarded blaster, shooting with expert precision and hitting the bald thing right between the eyes.

Obi-Wan sidestepped, moving back to cover Reko’s back as the final few underlings moved forward- there were three left- including the one Triva was currently castrating five ways to life day with a vibroblade. He didn’t know whether to be terrified or impressed. Both seemed like a reasonable conclusion. 

Obi-Wan raised Ventress’ ‘saber and deflected several shots, “I thought we said goodbye,” he asked with a sideways look,

“Nice to see you too,” Reko rolled his eyes, but shot a wicked smirk as the Rattataki fell to his knees.

Mick managed to get on the back of the last one- sitting on their shoulders and letting out a loud whoop as it flailed about, scrabbling at its neck to try and pry the man off to no avail. Triva moved swiftly and slashed at their legs, leaving dark and oozing open cuts on the backs of its knees. Mick expertly twisted the neck and a sickening  _ crack  _ told them all they needed to know. He hopped off as the underling fell to its knees and onto the ground with a  _ thud. _

The four of them converged in the centre of the massacre, Reko had several cuts along his face- and what looked like a nasty burn on his arm from a stray blaster shot; Triva looked marginally better, a split lip and a few bruises. She sighed and fixed her headband, giving Obi-Wan a grin,

“That was cool,” Mick said from beside him, Obi-Wan laughed despite himself, clapping Mick on the back- he was about to ask what had happened when a rumble came from within the bunker.

Obi-Wan’s stomach dropped, anxiety turning to annoyance as the doors blew off, Ventress appeared from the darkness, eyebrow quirked, 

“You didn’t think  _ that  _ would get rid of me? Did you?” Her tone was mocking but Obi-Wan could see the impressed glint in her eyes.  _ Interesting indeed. _

“No,” he replied honestly, moving in front of the group, letting them fall back to the line of the grass. She leered and ignited her singular saber,

They met in the middle, red on red clashing- the unfamiliar crystal screamed at him- screamed that it was  _ wrong  _ for him to be holding this. He fell back into his training- ex-Jedi weren’t meant to carry on with their studies after leaving the temple- but when did Obi-Wan ever have to follow their rules anymore? It was as freeing as it was terrifying, wielding a ‘saber again; it had been such a long time since he’d had to use it in battle, and using one that had spilled the blood of innocent people made his heart break. 

They met in a flurry of movement and in the back of his mind he hoped that the rest of them had taken the chance to escape, not wanting them anywhere near the fight. He wondered if he should kill Ventress, but realised she  _ had  _ to be important somewhere along the line, and that doing anything too dramatic would cause problems in the future… he’d already pushed the limit by saving Qui-Gon’s life all those years ago. 

“Handy with a ‘saber I see,” Ventress said, bringing their ‘sabers together and leaning forward, “they didn’t tell me  _ that.”  _

Obi-Wan didn’t bother answering, Ventress was no threat to them, more of an inconvenience truly- she was  _ useful-  _ he told himself, and if he could find a way to just  _ incapaci- _

_ “Hey!”  _ A loud and strained voice called- before he knew it a blue lightsaber was added to the mix- he couldn’t see its owner- too busy dodging their enemy and trying to will away splitting heachache that suddenly gripped him- one he hadn’t had to go through in  _ years.  _ This  _ had  _ to be a Jedi- the moves were distinctively Djem So, but the civilian clothing threw Obi-Wan for a moment- he didn’t have time to figure them out- not yet anyway.

He moved back into Soresu, and eventually Ventress began to visibly tire, her chest heaving and her scowl deepening with every strike. This other Jedi was competent but erratic- moving with a spontaneous yet practiced ease that Obi-Wan matched as easily as breathing. They moved in time together and Ventress stumbled back, further and further away from the bunker until she gave completely and took off in a sprint, calling on the Force and ripping the lightsaber out of Obi-Wan’s grip, he didn’t struggle against it and it was like a sudden weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

Neither of them were able to give chase as the heavy humm of an engine blocked their ears and threw them back- a ship appearing from behind the treeline and speeding towards them. Ventress blew a kiss to Obi-Wan and he forced himself not to let his lip curl as she Force-jumped onto the open ramp. They watched and squinted against the sunlight as the ship took off into the sky, becoming nothing more than a shadow in the distance. The person next to him swore in another language, one he wasn’t familiar with. 

Obi-Wan sighed, feeling the exhaustion of post-battle taking root in his bones. He turned back to his saviour, the tension tightening behind his eyes, but there was no mistaking who he was looking at.

_ Anakin  _ was still staring up at the sky like it had done him some personal offence, giving Obi-Wan time to really  _ look  _ at him. He was taller- only by a few inches, and his close cropped sandy blond hair and half-exposed padawan braid gleamed in the sunlight. He was so  _ different  _ and yet so achingly familiar. It was only when the Jedi turned to face him that his eyes widened and the soft, awe-filled familiarity that stirred in his chest swirled into something much more  _ alive. _

Flashes of a knee-high youngling hit him, his peaceful face curled up in Obi-Wan’s own robe at the forefront of it all. His heart rate picked up as their eyes met, a glowing, all consuming emotion that enveloped him- the reaction was almost violent in its ferocity as Anakin launched himself at Obi-Wan, pulling him into a hug. He stumbled back, only just keeping his balance as they held each other. He could feel Anakin’s joy coming off of him like golden waves of sound until it was all he could hear, drowning out the world around them.

They pulled away from each other, Anakin’s bright blue eyes and wide grin just like he remembered; he wanted to speak, he really did, but all he could do was grip onto the young Jedi’s arms and smile at him. He was there-  _ safe.  _ Something in him, a part of him that had been pulling itself in several different directions since he had left the Jedi Order; that had been ripped and torn and put back together from the moment he fell back into this life finally pulled itself back together. He was  _ here.  _ He didn’t know exactly where  _ here  _ was, but Force did the feeling sing through every part of him that it was where he was meant to be.

Anakin pulled away suddenly, looking away. “You have a beard.” He choked out, then immediately screwed his eyes shut, an embarrassed blush reaching the very tips of his ears. His mouth moved but no sound came out, Obi-Wan put him out of his misery,

“Wonderful observation, Anakin.” 

Movement in the corner of his eye made him turn his head. Qui-Gon and Padmé stood with Triva, Reko and Mick, seemingly in conversation. He turned back to Anakin, motioning towards the group. Anakin bit his lip, looking away for a moment as they made their way back. 

“When did you become a Senator?” Anakin blurted, Obi-Wan smiled,

“I served as Padmé’s advisor for the rest of her reign, and uh, found myself back on my homeworld… and well… it’s a long story.” 

Obi-Wan became acutely aware of the pain in his ribs, and the pounding of his head that was probably residue of being knocked out several times, but pushed the pain away, focusing instead on the people in front of him. Padmé rushed up to him, checking him over for any other sort of injury,

“I’m fine, Padmé, I promise.” He said over her fussing,  _ Liar  _ a voice in the back of his head chided. He pointedly ignored it. Padmé narrowed her eyes but eased off and Obi-Wan looked between his old friends and his new ones, noticing the expecting looks from both sides as to  _ who the kriff are these people.  _

“Mick, Reko, Triva,” he started, “meet Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan Anakin Skywalker, and Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo.” He motioned between the two of them, Triva stepped forward and steadfastly put a hand out, a sign of peace between the smugglers and the Jedi, Qui-Gon inclined his head and took it.

“Triva Nokasta,” she said.

Reko moved forward, “Reko Zur.” He nodded his head to each of them. 

Obi-Wan suppressed an exasperated smile when Mick came forward too, smug swagger in his step, “Mikrigo Montoya Cappask, call me Mick,” he threw a wink to Obi-Wan. Padmé sent him a look and he just rolled his eyes, not noticing the way Anakin stiffened beside him.

“We were hired to kidnap the Senator,” Reko said hesitantly, Anakin scowled and went to move forward but Obi-Wan put a hand on his shoulder,

“They saved my life.” He stated, looking at Qui-Gon, who hadn’t changed much over the years- save for a few more wrinkles and grey hairs here and there. The Jedi nodded to him. Obi-Wan turned to the three smugglers,

“Thank you, for everything,” he said, Triva winked at him and Reko clapped him on the back. Mick smiled,

“My offer still stands, Senator,” he said cheekily, 

“Call me Obi-Wan,” he replied, Mick raised an eyebrow,

“Obi-Wan it is.” He said, trying the name out. Now that he wasn’t trying to kill him, Obi-Wan could really see how attractive he was, the rugged smuggler look really worked.

“You all have a friend on Stewjon if you ever need any help.” The three nodded to him and turned, scooping up their credits and making their way back to the ship; Obi-Wan watched them go and Padmé stepped up next to him,

“That Mick was cute,” She said with a sly smile,

“Oh shush.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, though couldn’t deny the blush that tinged his cheeks.

Obi-Wan turned back to the two other Jedi, “I guess I have some explaining to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: NEARLY FIVE THOUSAND HITS AND OVER THREE HUNDRED KUDOS????? YOU LOT ARE THE BEST  
> seriously though your support has given me the motivation for writing and i appreciate every single one of you


	9. You Want A Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the eyes of a child Kenobi had been a hero, an angel fallen from the Force’s hands and sent to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've left y'all so long I'm so sorry!!! My health has taken a dip and I haven't been writing much but your wonderful love and support keeps me going!!! Thank you so much for 400 Kudos I honestly never believed this dumb little fic would be so popular and I hope I live up to your expectations

They sat in the cockpit of Qui-Gon’s ship, Anakin’s hands had a white knuckle grip on the controls. They had Obi-Wan back. It was great. It was abso-kriffing-lutely fantastic. Obi-Wan had barely said a word to him since they’d gotten on the ship. It was Fine. _Fine._ He tried to calm himself and focus on getting them into hyperspace. 

Padmé and Obi-Wan were talking behind him, not that he was paying attention to anything they were saying. He replayed their meeting over in his head- Obi-Wan had grown his hair, it fell neatly to the tips of his ears- he’d grown a beard too… it looked good, really good. _Oh pull yourself together,_ he scoffed mentally _._ Obi-Wan was still competent with a ‘saber, like he’d never stopped his training; his moves were graceful and controlled. Anakin bit the inside of his cheek, mind straying to the smugglers, they seemed like good people, they had to have been to save Obi-Wan’s life.

He turned in his seat and entered the coordinates for Coruscant, feeling the sudden rush as they made the jump into hyperspace. He took a deep breath, trying to center his thoughts the way Qui-Gon had taught him to do, but there was this insistent buzzing at the back of his head, refusing to go away. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, focusing on the movement of the things around him- the ever so subtle tick of the engine, and the soundless _whoosh_ of the stars streaking past them.

He looked over at Qui-Gon in the co-pilot chair, zeroing in on the light that surrounded him. Anakin had gotten used to seeing it in people now, having spent so much time around the Jedi. Qui-Gon’s was steady, every so slightly transparent. There were brighter parts than others- in everyone- wrapping around their bodies, other times the light spiked into a crown on their heads. Everyone was different, and he could see it better and better the older he got.

Anakin wished he could see his own light, but no matter how much he tried there was nothing to see. He bit his lip, turning around in the chair and looking to Padmé and Obi-Wan. Padmé’s light was ever the same- dimmer than that of a Jedi but calm, more of a shimmer around her than anything else, but Obi-Wan- _Obi-Wan_ still glowed from the inside out, blooming from his chest- but there was something new about him- thin, scar-like lines denting the pattern of light. He’d never seen anything like that before… then again, he’d never met anyone like Obi-Wan.

“What happened?” Anakin asked absently, pulling the two Senators from their conversation, “after you left?”

Obi-Wan’s answering smile was hesitant, “Padmé took me in, as an advisor for the remainder of her reign… after that I spent some time on various planets-”

“He was helping our research facility on Naboo, plants, wildlife and such.” Padmé said quickly, Anakin furrowed his brow as Obi-Wan looked at her with _relief?_ He didn’t have time to look too much into that as Obi-Wan carried on:

“I went back to Stewjon, I found out about my family and because of my connections to both Coruscant and Naboo I was offered a position as Senator.” Obi-Wan kept it vague, his eyes flicked to Qui-Gon, who remained perceptively quiet, Anakin shifted in his seat,

“You have a family?” He pictured these faceless people, smiling, happy, standing next to Obi-Wan in some disgustingly domestic setting. He bit the inside of his cheek.

Obi-Wan chuckled, “I was the eldest, I have a younger sister, unfortunately my birth mother and father died a few years ago- but the family name was more… well known than I expected…”

“You’re practically royalty, Obi-Wan,” Padmé rolled her eyes, Anakin’s widened, Qui-Gon held back a smirk, 

“I am not, thank you very much Padmé.” Obi-Wan said pointedly, then, catching the look Anakin was giving him, sighed, looking away. Anakin tried to catch his gaze again to no avail, he got the feeling that Obi-Wan was holding back. He couldn’t understand why he would lie to them? What had happened in the years he had been gone? He looked between Padmé and Obi-Wan again, a small and nasty little dragon inside him rearing its ugly head, they were so _close,_ why had Obi-Wan chosen Padmé over him? 

The thoughts were doing nothing for his mood, pulling him into that dark little space where he kept the thoughts Qui-Gon told him he shouldn’t have, that he always had to be _in the moment._ Thoughts of his mother on Tatooine, of Obi-Wan leaving them of Obi-Wan and Padme whispering conspiratorially to each other. No, that wasn’t fair- he was nine years old when they had met, he wasn’t right to be selfish like that, he pushed the feeling away, not willing to examine it any further. 

Qui-Gon looked between the two of them, “Anakin, go help Senator Kenobi to the medbay,” He suggested, Anakin knew what he was doing- he was trying to get him to talk to Obi-Wan about his feelings. He almost said no, but swallowed his pride, and nodded.

“I promise you, I’m fine.” Obi-Wan protested again, sitting up on the elevated bench with a wince. The medbay in the ship was small, only large enough for the two of them to move about somewhat comfortably. Anakin rolled his eyes,

“Let’s just take a look,” he said, rifling through several draws and taking out bacta patches and bandages, “you were kidnapped by pirates and had to fight several mercenaries and whoever the fuck that woman was-”

“Ventress,” Obi-Wan said reflexively, Anakin looked up at him and quirked his eyebrow, 

“Do you know her?” He asked, Obi-Wan shifted, avoiding his eyes like he hadn’t meant to say anything, Anakin looked over him wearily, searching his face; 

“No, but I’ve heard of her,” Obi-Wan didn’t look at him as he spoke, instead pulling off his torn jacket, showing the mottled blue and purple bruising up his arms and around his wrists, stark against his fair skin.

Anakin grimaced at the sight of it, there were small prints, outlines of a boot or knuckle here and there. He felt a flash of anger at the pirates who had taken him and inflicted this. He examined the rest of Obi-Wan’s torso, noticing the small cuts and deep purple and yellow blooming at his ribs,

“Your ribs are broken,” he said bluntly, Obi-Wan rolled his eyes,

“I’m fine they don’- _AGH!”_ He cried out in pain as Anakin reached out to apply a bacta patch to the cuts that still oozed blood, he flinched in response, being more gentle as he took the bandage from beside him on the bench and went to work wrapping it around the Senator. It was an awkward position, one Anakin was acutely aware of in every possible way. Obi-Wan smelled like a battle, of blood and sweat and pain. He noticed that despite not having to go through the usual exercises at the Temple anymore he was still strong and sturdy- he felt a blush rising at the back of his neck and quickly finished his task, pulling back from Obi-Wan with a sheepish smile.

“You’re lucky I saved your ass,” he mumbled, Obi-Wan let out an affronted scoff,

“I was _handling_ it, thank you very much.” 

Anakin felt a hot surge of indignancy- _He_ was the one that had helped him defeat this Ventress woman, “I saved your _life,_ lazer brain.” The childish insult took Obi-Wan back for a minute, his eyes widened,

 _“Lazer brain?!”_ He snapped, “I was doing _perfectly_ fine on my own when you barged in-”

Anakin gasped, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest, fumbling to keep the bandaging secure with his other hand. “You were in _no_ space to fight-”

“-I was _fine.”_ Obi-Wan said stiffly, then grunted, gripping his side and halting any more conversation on the matter. 

Anakin sank back down onto the chair, he wasn’t really sure when he’d gotten up from it to be honest, nor how they had gotten so close. He scoffed, grumbling about _kriffing politicians_ to which Obi-Wan scowled at him. He ignored the older man, instead concentrated on getting the Senator in working order before they arrived back on Coruscant. Obi-Wan let out a low hiss as Anakin applied the bacta to the wounds on his forehead, cleaning them of the dry blood that had congealed around the splits in his skin.

“Sorry,” Anakin mumbled, he felt tense, the suffocating mixed emotion of seeing someone after so long and then finding out he’s a self-sacrificing asshole making him scowl so hard his head hurt. 

He looked down at the man that had saved him, Obi-Wan looked older, wiser, so different to the person he’d last seen. The freckles on his cheeks and his blue-grey eyes, his faint scowl as he steadfastly refused to lock eyes.

Anakin let his eyes trail lower, to the strong line of his jaw and a small, faint scar on his collarbone. His breath hitched suddenly; around his neck, just next to his heart, was the Jappor Snippet a younger him had carved, resting unassumingly, like the sight of it didn’t change the entire air between them when Obi-Wan caught him staring at it. An involuntary smile spread across Anakin’s face, and he instinctively reached out, tracing a finger over the worn symbols,

“You kept it,” he said, barely a whisper,

Obi-Wan looked down at him, brow furrowed, “of course I did,” he replied, averting his gaze once more, Anakin looked away too, feeling stupid for being so happy that Obi-Wan had kept some dumb necklace… but he _had_ kept it, hadn’t he? right there next to his heart. He went back to patching the Senator up, receiving only mild complaints in return, ignoring the sudden thudding of his own heart.

~

Palpatine looked over Coruscant through the window of his office. His lip curled in frustration and he clenched his jaw. Kenobi would not go quietly, then. That would not do. His sway with the Jedi Council could be the beginnings of his own destruction. He’d had ten peaceful years to mold young Skywalker’s anger, weaving it into the perfect conduit for his power, _The Chosen One._ But no matter how hard he had tried he could not stamp out the childish idolisation of the ex-Jedi from the boy’s mind, from the eyes of a child Kenobi had been a hero, an angel fallen from the Force’s hands and sent to save him. Palpatine’s fists clenched, there was no ripping it from the child’s head that Kenobi was nothing but a snivelling, scared little boy that didn’t know how to handle being as little as a _Jedi._

A thought came to him, whispered in his ear by the darkness that made its home inside his soul. Palpatine smiled, cruel joy as the Gods threw something so perfect into his hands. Skywalker adored Kenobi, that much may have been true. But the pedestal the new Senator had been standing on for ten years could so easily crumble beneath his feet, and how it must hurt to see such heroes fall. 

Palpatine turned from the window, finding little interest in the durasteel spires. His hand moved to one of the heavy flimsi-bound tomes on his desk, a rare thing, from the time before the galaxy were connected through metal and wires. The book’s inscription was in a language lost to time. He chuckled hollowly, _time_ was what he was after, or at least, what was between it. He opened the book, flicking through the delicate, yellow flimsi, an image inked into one of the pages. Three figures standing tall and proud, unblinking and lifeless. _Fall indeed._

~

The moment their ship touched down in the hangar Anakin knew they were in trouble, he looked at Qui-Gon, who was as infuriatingly calm as usual; not a hair out of place and his expression blank as the four of them walked down the ramp. Padmé’s guards were standing on the platform waiting for them along with who he assumed was Obi-Wan’s own security detail.

Mace Windu stood stiffly a few meters away from them and Anakin steadfastly refused to curl in on himself under the Jedi Master’s penetrating gaze. Obi-Wan walked next to him and seemed to have the same sentiment, standing tall, even now he still seemed like a Jedi, in the gracefulness of his movements, but with more confidence and sturdiness. Like he’d found his place in the galaxy. 

Anakin tore his eyes away from Obi-Wan, preparing himself for the disapproval that he’d no doubt be taking the brunt of. How he should be a _better_ Jedi, not go running off trying to _be a hero._ He tried to quell his mounting anger, but instead of dousing the burning defensiveness he was working himself into it only stoked the flames. 

Windu’s pinched gaze moved over all four of them, Padmé seemed calm, but the narrowing of her eyes dared Windu to try and tell her what they did was wrong. Windu turned away from her and to the two Jedi, taking a deep breath.

“Your assignment was to keep Senator Amidala safe. _Not_ go off trying to save-”

Obi-Wan coughed from beside them, raising an eyebrow as all eyes turned to him; he was in the spare clothes Anakin had brought for him, as well as a spare outer robe, he still looked tired, but better off than the state they’d found him in, 

“I do believe they saved my life.” He said, Anakin fought not to roll his eyes, _oh sure,_ now _I saved your life._

“Kenobi-” Windu’s eyes widened a fraction, 

“Believe me, Master Windu, had they not gotten there when they did I would not be standing here now.” Obi-Wan’s tone was calm, friendly even, but something in the way he spoke was challenging, powerful in a way Anakin didn’t expect. 

Windu nodded his expression on the verge of being soft, “It’s good to see you,” he said, then turned to Qui-Gon and Anakin,

“It would seem that your actions have- for once, paid off…” He inclined his head, “the council will decide what will be the best course of action… considering the events.” The Jedi bowed to them, and they did the same in return, before turning and disappearing into the hangar.

Anakin was about to turn to Obi-Wan to thank him, but the Senator was gone. He looked around wildly, panic flooding him before he saw several of his guards leading him away. He deflated, looking at his feet and pushing away his disappointment. He turned away, Padmé had also left with her protection detail, leaving Qui-Gon and him alone. He looked up at his Master, who looked back at him with an unreadable expression; he pulled up his shields, not wanting his Master to sense the bitter sadness in his chest. 

They made their way to the Temple, and upon arrival went straight to the Council chamber to receive whatever punishment they were meant for. Anakin refused to think about how quickly it had all happened, how there had been this unending torrent of light when Obi-Wan had looked him in the eyes for the first time in so long and now it was if he’d been left in the dark again; like it didn’t mean anything. He refused to think about how after everything they went through to get Obi-Wan back he’d just let himself be whisked away again without so much as a goodbye.

Windu sat at the head of the Council Chamber, Yoda to his left. They all must have been briefed on what Qui-Gon and he had done because a few of them gave the pair disapproving looks. Anakin found a little solace when Master Plo discreetly gave him a thumbs up, it didn’t lift his spirits completely, but it did help.

“Disobeyed the Council’s order, you did,” Yoda croaked, jabbing his little stick in their direction. Had they not been being punished Anakin might have found it comical. “Go off into danger, you did! Put Senator Amidala’s _life_ in danger, you did!” Yoda sighed, 

“You did, however,” Master Plo began calmly, “manage to rescue Senator Kenobi, and keep Senator Amidala safe.” The rest of the council murmured in agreement, Anakin sent a silent thank you to the Kel Door, 

“Senator Kenobi was captured by pirates, but they were not the ones that wanted him.” Qui-Gon said, “there was another, one that carried two red lightsabers.” There was an eruption of voices at that, the Chamber grew louder, the Masters looked at them in horror, the word _Sith_ silent on their lips. Anakin thought back to how Obi-Wan seemed to know who she was, and the look on his face as he’d tried to change the subject, it made him uneasy, unsure as to what to tell the Council. He hadn’t said anything to Qui-Gon or Padmé about Ventress. He needed to talk to Obi-Wan about it- or maybe the Chancellor, he might know what to do about it.

Windu cleared his throat, “What happened on this _rescue mission?”_ It might have been a trick of the light- but Anakin could have sworn he saw a hint of amusement in the dark eyes of the Master. They relayed what had happened when they went to Padmé’s apartments, and what had happened when they had gotten Obi-Wan back, and in turn Obi-Wan’s own experiences, including the Force suppressing cuffs- which made the Council members bristle. By the end of it Anakin felt a little drained, 

“It would seem there’s much more at work here than just a simple kidnapping…” Windu said thoughtfully, “I think we can all agree that this is not over-” the rest of the Council all nodded in agreement, “-So you will carry on with your duty of protecting the Senators. There is a very serious debate tomorrow, and whoever has tried to keep Senator Kenobi away from this meeting may try again.” Anakin and Qui-Gon bowed, and Anakin felt an uneasiness claw its way into his chest, settling between his ribs. This was not over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh? Palps? Oh no?  
> what could he possibly be planning? 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔(¬‿¬)  
> also bickering, because Anakin can't flirt for the life of him


	10. You Can't Choose What Stays And What Fades Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a moment Anakin was reminded of something from his childhood… something that poked and prodded at the back of his mind but could not pierce the veil into his working consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I think I'm finally getting somewhere with Part II, there's still a lot to be done, but I think it should work well with the mystery that's going to unfold!!

Anakin knocked on Chancellor Palpatine’s office door. He wouldn’t be able to stay long unfortunately, he was meant to be with Obi-Wan right now anyway- but ever since the man had just disappeared on him the thought of seeing him again made Anakin anxious. 

A kindly voice called to him to come in and he happily let the door hiss open. Coming into the Chancellor’s office used to intimidate him the first few times, but over the years he came to associate it with the kindly face of the Chancellor sitting on the other side of the desk. 

He had chosen to model his own style after the colour scheme, Palpatine had told him that dark colours made people seem more powerful, and commanded more respect than that of lighter colours, and well, he really hadn’t had any reason not to believe him. 

Anakin’s eyes scanned the large desk, datapads were stacked neatly to one side and a large, heavy looking flimsi book rested to one side, he figured the Chancellor might have been reading it- but the title on the front of the tome was stitched in another language- one he didn’t recognise from any Jedi lessons on planetary culture. Still, he didn’t think much of it.

Palpatine had been a good friend and mentor to him- even when Qui-Gon had told him to steer clear. He couldn’t understand why his Master was so adamant he kept away from the man- he was like a grandfather to him, in a way.

“Ah! There you are my boy!” The Chancellor smiled at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, “I had hoped you would stop by today!” Anakin took his usual seat across from Palpatine, offering a tight smile,

“I’m afraid I can’t stay long,” Anakin replied, Palpatine seemed to sense something was wrong, and leaned forward,

“Is something troubling you, my boy?” He asked, Anakin pursed his lips for a moment, conflicted,

“It’s Obi-Wan,” he said quietly, “he’s- he’s back and… I don’t know…” Palpatine hummed in thought,

“I suppose his return has been a bit of a shock, having left so long ago,” He said, Anakin nodded, 

“I… Something’s changed, there’s something about him.” Palpatine regarded him for a moment, and Anakin shook his head rising from his chair and heading over to the window, staring out over the skyline. The Chancellor followed suit and stood next to him,

“It’s been ten years, my boy,” he said softly, almost sympathetic, “he may not be the person you remember.”

Anakin wanted to argue with the old man, wanted to tell him that there was this  _ moment  _ when they’d first seen each other again, when Obi-Wan had hugged him just as tightly as Anakin had hugged him. There was this bright light and he had been just as happy to see him. Before Anakin could reply his comlink beeped, and with a small apology to the Chancellor and the promise of a later meeting he slipped out of the office, no lighter than when he’d entered. 

The Chancellor’s words stuck with him however. Obi-Wan wasn’t the same man that had left, he wasn’t seventeen anymore; he worried his bottom lip- he didn’t actually  _ know  _ anything about Obi-Wan, Gods damn it he had been  _ nine  _ when they’d last seen each other, and from what he’d seen of him now he didn’t know  _ what  _ to feel.

He found Obi-Wan sitting on a large chair in the living room with a datapad in his lap, a large transparisteel window let in the early evening light from outside- it was so strikingly different from Padmé’s apartments with their wide columns and statues guarding an open pavilion- this was more intimate, it was still large enough to fit several banthas but it seemed… warmer, less cool marble and more synthetic wood. A circular rug sat near the window- which, the closer Anakin came he realised there was an archway leading out onto a balcony. It was beautiful.

Obi-Wan was in a simple shirt, one that wrapped around him and had a simple tie at the front with dark trousers- he also had leather guards on both wrists, gathering in the sleeves of his shirt. He looked good, really good- better, that is- the bruises on his jaw were fading, and the tenseness in his shoulders were gone. He would have looked calm, at ease had it not been for the deep frown on his face.

“Hello, Anakin,” he said, not looking up from his screen, Anakin flushed, the Senator set the pad down on the caf table and motioned for him to sit down, “we haven’t had much time to talk,” he gave him a small smile, Anakin sat forward, trying his best not to twist his hands in his lap.

“It’s okay, how are your ribs?” He didn’t look at the man, instead looking around the room, taking everything in. Obi-Wan’s hand instinctively went to his side where his injury was, 

“They’re better- I’ll be well enough to go to the Senate meeting tomorrow, at least,” he said, in the dying light from the window Obi-Wan looked soft, almost ethereal… for a moment Anakin was reminded of something from his childhood… something that poked and prodded at the back of his mind but could not pierce the veil into his working consciousness; he ignored it and made a quiet humming sound, turning his gaze away from the sight of the man again,

“The Chancellor tells me it’s about the systems leaving the republic,” he said casually, Obi-Wan’s breath hitched, a moment of panic flooded him and leaked out from the Senator’s defences and into the force- hitting Anakin like a tidal wave. His gaze snapped back to him, confused, but it all receded as quickly as it came- Obi-Wan’s collected expression not betraying anything towards his feelings.

“Yes, it is- it’s been a long time coming… Have you spoken often with the Chancellor?” His voice was light- and to anyone else it might have seemed perfectly normal, but something irked Anakin, he could sense something was off.

He sat up a little straighter, “the Chancellor has been a great friend to me over the years,” he said, albeit a little defensively. In a moment Obi-Wan’s expression crumbled, he put a hand over his mouth, 

“Dammit Qui-Gon.” He muttered, he took a deep breath in, but did not move. Anakin scowled, Qui-Gon had nothing to do with this.

“The Chancellor is a good man.” He stated, “he understands what needs to be done to maintain peace in the galaxy.” Obi-Wan suddenly looked up at him, jaw tight,

“How long have you been talking to the Chancellor?” He asked, a quiet restraint in his voice. Anakin scowled,

“Since I was a child.” He said, Obi-Wan looked away,

“He’s not a good man.” He said flatly, as if trying to force all the emotion out of his voice, Anakin’s scowl deepened, 

“You’ve never met the Chancellor! How could you say that?” He felt his own annoyance rise within him with a growing fury. The Chancellor was the only uncorrupted politician left in the Senate- Obi-Wan had no  _ right  _ to claim that the Chancellor wasn’t a good man- not when he was doing everything he could to keep the republic together.

“I know him  _ well enough.”  _ Obi-Wan said, glaring at him, “The Chancellor is in no right to have as much power as he does already.” 

Anakin suddenly rose to his feet, “The Chancellor is the one that wants to keep you safe-  _ he  _ is the one that assigned the Jedi to guard you! He’s trying to keep the republic together. Not that you stuck around long enough to understand that!”

Obi-Wan’s expression changed in a heartbeat and Anakin regretted his words the moment they left his lips, he knew he’d stung Obi-Wan, and the man rose to his feet with a stubborn grunt,

“Don’t be childish, Anakin,” he said, turning away from him, walking towards another archway leading to what Anakin assumed was his room.“And don’t talk about things you don’t understand.” He added, more hurt than anything else.

He was about to argue- protest-  _ anything  _ to get the last word over this self-entitled asshole that thought he knew what was better for a place that he’d  _ abandoned,  _ but Obi-Wan was already gone. So instead he turned away, staring unseeingly as the sky got darker and darker. He could sense the Senator in the other room, quietly checking for any threats that might try and harm him in the night. There was a heavy drumming in the back of his mind- from what he didn’t know, but it made the skin on his back crawl. He couldn’t understand what Obi-Wan’s problem with the Chancellor was- he was trustworthy, and kind- and was the only Force damn person that had ever fucking  _ listened  _ to him. Palpatine wasn’t the one that disappeared ten years ago, wasn’t the one that had left Anakin with no explanation whatsoever. 

He stayed that way for another hour, slowly stewing in his own anger until the sky grew an inky blue and the city lights washed him in all the muted colours of the rainbow. Obi-Wan was asleep, he could feel it, and it seemed Anakin was in for the long haul. He eventually caved, sitting on the couch with a sigh; he sent a pointless glare over to Obi-Wan’s empty chair. He wasn’t being childish, but he shouldn’t have said that to the man… it was uncalled for.

He was dozing off, a slow, heavy blanket of sleep tempting him to give in, but something sharp and heavy pierced his heart, sending him sitting bolt upright where he was- there was something  _ wrong,  _ before he registered he was moving Anakin was already in Obi-Wan’s room. His heart pounded in his ears as he forced the doors open.

Anakin didn’t think before igniting his lightsaber and slicing cleanly through the intruders. Two bug-shaped things landed at his feet, cut in half and smouldering- sending the acrid stench of ozone into the room. Obi-Wan stared wildly at him, hair still half-mussed from sleep. There was a beat of silence as the Senator stood from the bed, and the two men stared down at the  _ things. _

The silence didn’t last as a droid scuttled across the window. Anakin disengaged his saber and burst through the window, blindly grappling onto the droid as it soared away- if he was going to get  _ anywhere  _ with finding out who was behind these attacks then this was his best chance. The wind of the city whipped around him, chilling him to the bone as they dodged and weaved the oncoming traffic- in the distance he saw a figure looking right at him,  _ there,  _ he thought. 

He was pulling it down, further and further until he felt a hot burning pain in one of his hands. With a grunt he fell away, the smoking remains of the droid hitting the side of a nearby building. He managed one final look up at the assassin as they made for a speeder. The wind whipped at his robes and whistled in his ears, adrenaline running high and fast through his veins as he maneuvered himself out of the way of several speeders before making contact with the hard durasteel of a speeder, feeling the angry growl of the sunlight engine under him.. He let out a punched-out laugh as he saw Obi-Wan, still a little bleary from sleep, glaring daggers into him. He crawled over the seat, landing neatly in the passenger seat,

“Can you keep up old man?” Anakin quipped as they sped through Coruscant- the droid clear ahead of them, Obi-Wan tutted,

“I feel so sorry for Qui-Gon,” he said, quickly switching places with him as quickly as he could, Anakin smirked as he took over control of the speeder,

“Oh trust me- Qui-Gon’s worse.” He said, slamming on the acceleration and eliciting a shriek from the Senator. They sped through the city, following the speeder through the Coruscanti traffic. The assassin tried his best to lose them- Anakin grit his teeth and pulled them into a dive, Obi-Wan gripped the sides of his chair, a look of unadulterated horror plastered onto his face. Anakin laughed, pushing them into a deeper dive as they were led lower and lower into the city when something passed under them, blocking out the lights like an eclipse.

Anakin growled as the assassin disappeared beneath the ship and out of sight- but he didn’t let up, the dark durasteel came closer and closer and Anakin felt the addictive rush of adrenaline in his veins,

“Pull up, Anakin! Pull up!” Obi-Wan shouted at him over the wind, he laughed, knowing they weren’t in any real danger, but pulled up at the last second, the belly of the vehicle skating across the surface. 

“Don’t like flying Senator?” He asked with a wicked smirk, Obi-Wan shot him a withering glare Master Windu would’ve been proud of,

“I don’t mind flying but what you’re doing is  _ suicide!”  _

The momentum drove them forward and the assailant took a sharp turn into a tunnel system. There was no point chasing them if they were going to carry on this charade of cat and mouse. He missed the turn and sped around the outside of the building, coming face to face with them on the other side.

He could vaguely make out who was in the driver’s seat, their face obscured by a helmet and a face wrap- Anakin drove forward, hoping to run them out of the sky- it would at least incapacitate them long enough for Anakin to question them. At the last second the assailant pulled away, diving deeper into the Coruscant nightlife,

“Very clever,” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, 

“I don’t see you coming up with any bright ideas!” Anakin retorted, his earlier frustration bleeding through his words. 

“Don’t try and pin this on me! If you’d just-” Anakin rolled his eyes, tuning out Obi-Wan’s voice and leaning over the side of the speeder- he took a deep breath, zeroing in on the image of the assassin,

“If you’ll excuse me-” He jumped over the side, free-falling through the city, only somewhat smug about the scandalised yell from the man above him. He let the Force flow through him, slowing his descent. He landed with a grunt on what he was happy to see was the assassin’s speeder- he didn’t think he was in the right position to explain to some poor fool what he was doing on their windshield. 

_ He  _ turned out to be a  _ she  _ and  _ she  _ was a kriffing  _ nightmare  _ to apprehend. They tussled in mid air and Anakin tried his very best to grab hold of anything that would keep him from falling to his death. Eventually he managed to have enough time to grab onto his ‘saber and destroy the main console- sending them both hurtling towards the ground.

The ground level of Coruscant was full of the hustle and bustle of the usual Coruscanti nightlife, and he ducked and rolled as the speeder hit the ground, leaving him sprawled out in a daze in its wake. Anakin didn’t have time to gather his bearings and leapt to his feet, pursuing the assailant on foot through the streets.

He watched as she ducked around a corner into an alleyway, and he felt his heart pound in his ears as he rounded on her. He stopped short as Obi-Wan appeared at the other end of the alley, cutting their attacker off at both ends. He wondered how Obi-Wan had gotten to him so quickly. 

“Are you going to kill me?!” She snarled, 

“Not if you answer our questions.” Anakin said, placing a hand on the ‘saber at his belt. “Who hired you?”

The assassin looked wildly between them, baring her teeth- it was a few moments of silence before she must have realised there was no way out of this. 

She made a face like she’d just smelled something bad, “I was hired b-” she was cut off abruptly, a dart embedding itself in her jugular. She fell to the ground. Anakin didn’t need to check her pulse to know she was dead. The two men crouched by her body, watching as her skin morphed from a fair pink to a sullen and mottled green-grey colour.

“A changeling.” Anakin said, then reached for her neck and pulled back a small dart. Obi-Wan looked around them and a shiver went down his spine as they watched a figure disappear from one of the rooftops nearby.

“You should give it to the council,” he said, but Anakin could see he wasn’t really listening, he was still looking out into the city, and the muted lights and sound in this small pocket of the world felt suffocating. There was something palpable between them, like a million things left unsaid. Before Anakin could say anything, Obi-Wan stood up, breaking the moment.

~

They stayed in silence back in the apartment. They didn’t say anything to each other as they sat on opposite ends of the sofa, nor did Obi-Wan look at Anakin as he sent an emergency message to Qui-Gon about what had just happened. The static in the air after their fight was gone, now hollowed out into an uncomfortable and empty silence. Obi-Wan didn’t know what to say, so many things had happened in the last few days of him being around Anakin again- he knew it would be dangerous to be back, but he had no choice. 

He bit the inside of his cheek and finally moved his gaze to Anakin, who looked back at him blankly. They stayed like that for a long moment, he’d grown so much since Obi-Wan had last seen him, became so familiar that he felt if he looked at him too long his blue eyes would turn gold. It was something that had haunted him, above all else in his memory those golden eyes followed him. 

But that wasn’t Anakin. Not  _ his  _ Anakin. Not the Anakin sitting across from him then- those gold eyes were a lifetime ago- they didn’t exist yet. Qui-Gon’s old teaching echoed in his head:  _ stay in the here and now.  _

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Obi-Wan said softly, it was still loud in the quietness of the room, and Anakin seemed taken aback; he nodded nonetheless,

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, too.” He replied, Obi-Wan took a deep breath in, resting his head back and closing his eyes for a second- he hadn’t slept much in the past few days and it was beginning to take its toll on him.

“How are you?” Anakin asked, Obi-Wan chuckled at how  _ mundane  _ it sounded. He turned his head and watched as Anakin copied his movement; he was  _ tired,  _ in all honesty, too tired to fight off the small, unguarded smile that twitched the corner of his lips, 

“I’m okay, there’s a lot to do.” He said, barely above a whisper, “you?”

Anakin’s answering look wasn’t very different to his own, and something shifted in his chest- something small and warm. For a second Obi-Wan didn’t let himself worry about the inevitability of the coming war, nor the burden of trying to understand his place in this life, or his own fear of those blue eyes turning gold in three years' time. Instead he let exhaustion consume him, and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Palps' dynamic is really odd to write because I'm about as subtle as a bantha  
> but that might work considering Anakin isn't the sharpest knife in the draw (despite being a literal genius lmao boy has one (1) braincell)  
> Whose side are you on?? Anakin's or Obi-Wan's? lemme know!!!!!!!!
> 
> I'd also like to mention that the chapter titles are from different songs I picked to go along with the themes for each part, so:  
> Part I: Where We Come Alive by Ruelle (also where I got the name for the story as a whole)  
> Part II: No Light, No Light by Florence + The Machine   
> The other parts will be revealed as time goes on!!!!


	11. No Light, No Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He screamed into the void, frustration like electricity in his veins.   
> It did not take long for the void to scream back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im flabbergasted   
> 500 kudos and over 8.1k hits is absolutely incredible and I am so thankful for every single one of you!! thank you so much!  
> love y'all!!

Anakin thought a great many things about Obi-Wan Kenobi; he thought that he was stubborn, difficult and self-sacrificing; but he was also kind-hearted, intelligent and glowed as bright as the twin suns of Tatooine. In the darkest of his thoughts Anakin was still angry that Obi-Wan had left him. He was jealous that he could never live up to who he had been as a Jedi- it was all fleeting, in his rational mind he knew that. But Obi-Wan had also saved him, and gave him a home in the Temple, even if he himself wasn’t a part of it. 

Even in sleep Obi-Wan still looked worried, Anakin wanted to reach out and smooth the line between his furrowed brow, wondering if he’d had any peace at all in his life. He knew that sleep didn’t mean an escape, nightmares had plagued him since coming to the Temple- of his mother, of being rejected by the Council and sold back into slavery. He knew there was little respite from the heat and the hurt of life, and his heart ached to see that in the man next to him.

His thoughts slowly faded, and he was pressed into the cool embrace of unconsciousness. For a moment he was suspended, weightless and floating between asleep and awake- it did not bring him any peace. They all started like this. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he waited for the blinding flash of white light that would introduce him to his next nightmare.

It took longer than usual; something Anakin could be grateful for was that his dreams were short and intense. They didn’t drag on into an unending loop of pain and agony. But that wasn’t the case, not tonight. He hung there, limbs suspended, and that echo of familiarity was back, it felt like the barrel of a blaster- or the hilt of a lightsaber, pressing against the back of his head. Something in his mind wanted  _ out.  _

He didn’t know how to get to it. He couldn’t reach for whatever it was- there was  _ nothing  _ there- he wasn’t  _ strong  _ enough to break the mental block that shielded this memory or feeling or vision or  _ whatever the fuck it was.  _ He felt his own anger rising in him, the frustration that built tension behind his eyes and made white spots appear in his vision. 

The digging at the back of his head became harder to the point of pain. Anakin wanted to lash out at it- he  _ wanted  _ to tear it away and pull it in front of him, shaking out whatever information it had.

He was so close, he battered against the mental walls in the inky void, his movements languid in the dreamscape but powerful. He felt as the walls began to weaken, spider like cracks running through the mass. Furious triumph surged through him, dark and crackling.

It did not hold.

The pain in the back of his mind lifted so quickly it made him dizzy. The mental wall was gone but there was nothing behind it left to shield. Whatever had been there had retreated back into the darkness- for what he couldn’t understand. Anakin had been  _ strong enough.  _ He had broken down the walls, he had  _ done it.  _ And yet, the Force had not given him what he deserved. The information it had once been so willing to pass onto him was snatched away by a cruel and heartless hand.

He screamed into the void, frustration like electricity in his veins. 

It did not take long for the void to scream back.

It was the scream of a woman in pain, and in turn Anakin felt as though he himself had been wounded. His mother. It was his mother. Screaming from an unknown place, covered in blood, her flesh torn and her face bruised. He could feel it. Her broken bones, the twisted, mangled mess of her body laying in the sand. Her eyes wide and unseeing, mouth still open in a cry that would never leave her throat.

So Anakin screamed for her. He felt a wave of nausea and pain wash over him, a mirror to what she felt. He thrashed against unseen chains as the pain faded; he chased it, chased his mother as she took her final, rasping breath.

He did not scream when he woke to silence. He was still with Obi-Wan, his head resting uncomfortably on the back of the couch. A chill fell over him, and he held his breath to quell the tears threatening to spill over. Anakin was glad he hadn’t thrashed around in his sleep, it would have been difficult to explain his nightmares to Obi-Wan. He looked over to the Senator, who didn’t seem to have noticed Anakin’s torment; he was still sound asleep, too exhausted to do much else.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself and trying desperately to release his fears into the Force- well,  _ release  _ wasn’t the right word,  _ violently shove  _ seemed to be a better fit than any. The feelings and images and sounds still plagued him, unpicking the fine threads that held him together. Qui-Gon had tried so hard to help him meditate his feelings away, and Anakin tried so hard to do it but it was all so futile. 

The image of his mother, broken and bloody, turned him cold. He wanted to go back to Tatooine, to help her, to save her from whatever horrific fate was coming, but the Council would never allow him- would tell him that his  _ attachment  _ was clouding his mind and his sense. 

Eventually the dream faded to a dull ache in his chest, and his breathing returned to somewhat normality. Anakin didn’t know how long it had been. It was still dark in the living room, the only sounds were the distant traffic and the deep, even breathing of Obi-Wan on the other side of the couch. He looked over catching sight of the Jappor Snippet peeking out from under Obi-Wan’s tunic, worn and old after ten years- but still there.

He had often confided in the Chancellor about Obi-Wan, he had shared in the sadness of Obi-Wan leaving and told him with a sad and sympathetic tone that the ex-Jedi did not seem to care for Anakin. But he knew that wasn’t right. Just by the sight of the small and insignificant charm handed over in a hangar so long ago told Anakin all he needed to know. Obi-Wan might have left, but he had never forgotten. Anakin took what little comfort he could in that.

Anakin moved from his seat, knowing that if the Senator stayed in that position too long his ribs would only get worse. He hesitated, not really knowing whether to bite the bullet and carry Obi-Wan, either not disturbing him or risk the man waking up and-

“N’kin?” Obi-Wan said quietly, on the verge of asleep and awake, Anakin leaned forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees.

“How long was I asleep?” The man asked, “Oh-  _ fuck, ugh-”  _ Anakin snorted and moved to help Obi-Wan up, who instead of  _ accepting  _ the help like a  _ normal  _ person, waved him off and heaved himself to his feet. 

Obi-Wan sucked in a deep breath, eyes finding Anakin in the low light- in the back of his mind he wondered why they didn’t just turn a light on, but that thought was quickly forgotten when Obi-Wan spoke again,

“You were having a nightmare- weren’t you?” His voice was soft, and Anakin wished it were anything but. He looked away, swallowing whatever emotion threatened to show itself,

“Jedi don’t have nightmares,” he replied, furious at how his voice broke at the end, “Qui-Gon says that I shouldn’t worry about my dreams- that I should be mindful of the future- but not let my dreams control me.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said in that same tone, the young Jedi bit the inside of his cheek- the echoing of pained screams still ringing in his ears. “What was it about?”

“My mother.” Anakin replied stiffly, “I see her dying.”

Something dawned visibly on Obi-Wan’s face, something that scared and confused him- it was like the flick of a switch- the flash of a light- there, and then gone. Obi-Wan’s defenses built themselves around him tenfold, the look of knowing terror gone in a moment. Anakin was about to ask him what that meant, but the Senator cut him off before he could speak,

“I remember her,” he said, “I…” he trailed off, as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Obi-Wan cleared his throat and recovered quickly, 

“You’re connected to the Force more strongly than anyone I have ever met, Anakin, Qui-Gon is right- you must be mindful of the future, and that it is forever changing.” A warm and somewhat sad expression passed over his face, softening the gentle curve of his lips, “but you also have to listen to what it says.”

“The Council thinks I’m too attached.” Anakin replied bitterly, “they don’t trust me.”

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, “the Council is not perfect, believe you me,” he huffed out a small laugh, coming forward and sitting next to him on the couch, a little closer than before- Anakin wanted to reach out- for what he didn’t know- but he didn’t. 

“They’ve treated you like you were raised in the Temple- but you weren’t. Be mindful of your emotions, you can hurt, love,  _ feel _ , but don’t let that control you.”

Anakin could see where he was coming from, but could not understand how such simplicity could become so distorted- the Jedi idolised those that did not feel, that were detached and cold towards everything. The Council saw him as nothing more than a liability- dangerous and emotional. 

“What does this have to do with my dreams?” He asked harshly- he was not a  _ child.  _ He didn’t need to be sat down and told how to control himself,

“You should go and see your mother.” Was all Obi-Wan replied.

The air left Anakin’s lungs, and all his annoyance evaporated. “Wh- what?”

“I said you should go and check on your mother.” He repeated evenly, but before they could speak anymore the door to the apartment hissed open, and the towering form of Qui-Gonn appeared in the doorway.

The three of them sat in silence, they’d finally turned on the lamp lights, filling the room with a dusky warm glow, like firelight. The two nasty severed bugs lay next to each other on the table, and Anakin placed the dart next to them, scrutinising its design; it was small, barely the size of the pad of his thumb. 

Obi-Wan and Anakin recounted what happened with the assassin, and the ensuing chase that went down- They looked to each other, carefully leaving out their argument before. Anakin was still somewhat irked that Obi-Wan didn’t trust Palpatine, and a cold stone of dread in the pit of his stomach told him that it would not be the last time they spoke of it.

“Quin might be able to track it,” Obi-Wan said, motioning to the dart, “whoever is carrying out these attacks are trying to cover themselves- if anyone can trace who’s behind this it’s Quin.” Anakin was inclined to agree- Vos’ natural affinity to see something’s history with a single touch had been an incredible asset to the Order. 

Anakin felt a sheepish blush crawl up his neck- he had been so jealous of Vos as a kid, mainly because of how well he knew Obi-Wan… but no matter how much of a brat he was Vos would just laugh and tell him  _ don’t sweat it, kid.  _ As he’d gotten older he’d seen less and less of the Knight- but he got along famously with Aayla, his padawan. 

Qui-Gon inclined his head, “We’ll need to speak to the Council- and you may have to return to Stewjon if they decide Coruscant is not safe for you anymore.”

“No!” Obi-Wan and Anakin said in unison. Embarrassment flooded him- but Anakin held his ground through pure indignation at the familiar amused look Qui-Gon was giving the two of them, as if he found it all kriffing  _ hilarious. _

“This is the second attempt on your life in the past few days,” the Jedi Master said, 

“So? The Senate-” __

“You could die.”

_ “-The Senate  _ is more important right now.”

Anakin was sure he would never truly understand politicians- and seeing Obi-Wan put the fate of some political bill over his own life only baffled him further. Qui-Gon was still calm, but he could feel the animosity radiating off of Obi-Wan in waves. It made him very uncomfortable. 

Something passed between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, and suddenly all amusement fell away from the older Jedi’s face. There was a tense silence between them,

“Anakin, I need you to go to the Council immediately so they can contact Vos.” Qui-Gon said, “Obi-Wan and I have something we need to discuss.”

“But-”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said sternly. He bit back a remark and got up- a little harsher than was strictly necessary but he couldn’t find it in him to care- what had changed? What was their problem? Why did they have to treat him like a  _ child!?  _ He didn’t look back as he stalked out onto the balcony platform, hopping into the speeder.

He’d never seen Qui-Gon so serious, there was something he didn't know- something going on that nobody bothered to tell him, or didn’t  _ trust  _ him enough to let him know. He felt the same blackness cloud him the longer he thought about it, frustration and annoyance rearing its ugly head. Thoughts of his mother swam to mind, making his insides roil.

In his angered daze the speeder drifted, and he jerked the controls to narrowly avoid a crash. He ignored the furious huttese expletives fading into the distance and carried on towards the temple. Obi-Wan was confusing and infuriating and gorgeous and  _ infuriating-  _ all his life Anakin had adored him, and a little part of him really and truly does, but ever since he’d come back to Coruscant- to  _ Anakin  _ it had been nothing but mystery and mistruth muddled up with flashes of pure, unguarded care.

Anakin groaned, feeling the tension in his shoulders send an ache through his spine, he might need to go see the Chancellor again after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no, oh fuck--- could it be??????? a reveal????? or not??? and Anakin's dreams??? 
> 
> If anyone can catch the reference I'll love you forever


	12. A Revelation In The Light Of Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His memory did not serve him well, dominated by the horrors of his other life, but that didn’t mean all the light was lost, he remembered how close they were, and the days where the world did not seem so bleak as long as they had each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!! I've missed y'all so much, things have been kind of tough lately but they're getting better. I know this story is kind of slow and hard to get in to but I really hope you guys stick around to see the ending. I miss my outline so much guys, like, oh gods. Luckily it's not TOO bad. There should be some semblance of a plot that is

“I told you to keep him away from Palpatine.” Obi-Wan said gravely, Qui-Gon looked away,

“The will of the Force-”

“TO  _ HELL  _ WITH THE WILL OF THE FORCE!” He shouted, hauling himself off the couch and ignoring the scream of protest from his ribs. When he had left he had given Qui-Gon  _ one  _ task, to keep him safe away from the Sith Lord. But  _ no.  _

“I have seen, I  _ know  _ what the will of the Force looks like,” flashes of molten red and charred skin. Golden eyes and the spitting  _ I hate you.  _ That was the will of the Force. “I gave you one task in my absence. One thing.”

“I tried, Obi-Wan, but the boy has his own mind and can make his own choices.” 

“I told you to keep him safe,” Obi-Wan’s words were quiet now, broken, in a way, “he’s the key to peace in the galaxy, he will bring balance to the Force.”

“I know-”

“So  _ explain to me,  _ why you believe that Palpatine is a good influence.” He knew he had to be careful- it was dangerous ground he was treading on. Qui-Gon was intuitive, and he had already come close to the truth once when Obi-Wan had saved him from Maul.

“What is this personal vendetta against the Chancellor? What are you not telling me?” Qui-Gon’s expression was dark, and Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek. He reached out to the Force, asking for guidance, and like so many times before, there was empty silence. His life for the past ten years had been filled with half-truths and white lies- a few more would hardly matter.

“I’ve had dreams, Qui-Gon, visions of a future…” it was not untrue, his feelings often manifested into nightmares. They were warnings of what would happen if he failed again. Fear gnawed on his insides, maybe if he hadn’t left he could have protected Anakin better- if he hadn’t left Palpatine wouldn’t have as big an influence on him.

“Palpatine is at the heart of it all and his… influence over Anakin is dangerous.” He’d been gone so long,  _ so long.  _ “Anakin is meant to bring balance to the Force, not destroy it.” A blackness gripped him- he had said something similar, once upon a lifetime. “I fear that if Palpatine gains too much control over him… terrible things will happen.”

Qui-Gon was silent, regarding Obi-Wan with an unreadable expression. The night was quiet, and something heavy weighed on his shoulders, and he feared if he dared try and shift the weight it would all come crashing around him, plunging the galaxy into darkness once more. 

“What happened to you ten years ago?” Qui-Gon asked suddenly, “that day on the ship?”

It was such a loaded question, and Obi-Wan had to turn away, keeping the truth at bay seemed futile now.

“I died.”

~

Quin and Aayla stepped off of the ramp, their mission having been somewhat of a success- alright maybe not a total success but at least they were alive. The Temple hangar was quiet, only the sound of traffic and the sporadic clinks and scrapes of late night workers could be heard. Quin stretched, letting the tension wind from his shoulders as his back gave a satisfying crack from being stuck in one position too long. 

He turned to Aayla, who swayed on her feet. He was so proud of her, she was nearly ready for her trials and he had no doubt in his mind that she would one day make an incredible Jedi. She gave him a tired smile, picking up her rucksack and following him into the building.

“Remind me to never let you near anymore Dantooinian fireworks again.” The Twi’lek commented, Quin scoffed,

“You didn’t seem to mind when Countess de Stiel’s dress caught fire,” he chuckled, bumping her shoulder, Aayla rolled her eyes,

“She was a nasty old woman- it’s a good thing we ran into those pirates though, I don’t think we would have had enough fuel to get back without their help,” 

“I had no idea you were so good at Sabacc.” Quin said, only half concerned who had taught his padawan such a game- half impressed that she managed to cheat the three pirates out of that much money. 

“Skywalker taught me.” She shrugged, he shook his head fondly,

“I am not surprised, Skywalker is a walking talking ball of trouble,” He said, not unkindly. Skywalker was still as much of a wild child as any, but he was sure he didn’t have to worry about Qui-Gon’s apprentice being too much of a bad influence on his own. He was probably more worried about  _ her  _ being a bad influence on  _ him.  _ Though the memory of her and Skywalker hotwiring Master Windu’s personal speeder did bring him incandescent joy at the most wonderful times, often when he was standing in front of the Council, listening to the man himself and remembering that glorious, glorious expression.

“I think I’m going to sleep for three weeks.” Aayla said with a yawn, Quin nodded in agreement.

“Sleep sounds good,” he replied, “nice warm bed… No crazy diplomats trying to kill us… No yelling or fighting or…” he caught sight of a figure, running towards them “... or Anakin Skywalker running towards us and ruining my chances of getting my beauty rest.”

The boy was panting, trying to get the words out, whatever it was Quin knew he wasn’t going to like it, he sighed and looked at his padawan. She was cranky when she was tired and he loathed to think who would be the victim of her wrath if they had to stay awake for another forty standard hours straight.

“Obi-Wan… Assassin… need your help…” Anakin wheezed, he looked wild- like he’d just fought a Nexu and lived to tell the tale. Quin stilled when he heard Obi-Wan’s name, his friend was  _ back?  _ And he had been  _ assassinated?  _ He needed a minute to restart his heart before he could reply,

“Skywalker if you’re fucking with me-”

“I’m not! Qui-Gon sent me!” Anakin cried, “we need to tell the Council- you gotta- oh  _ et chu ta  _ just come with me.” Quin looked at Aayla, who was now much more awake, she nodded to him and they set off towards Anakin’s speeder. 

He filled them in on what happened with the assassin, and the dart they had pulled from her body. Aayla shuddered when he mentioned the bugs and Quin sat in some sort of stupor, one because his old friend was back on Coruscant and in danger, two because  _ Obi-Wan Kenobi, known hater of politics, was a Senator. _ The more worrying thought was that someone had tried to kill him twice in the past week, though it did seem pretty predictable, knowing his friend. He looked between the two padawans, uncharacteristic anxiety filling the air.

~

“This doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Qui-Gon ignored the petty remark and rubbed a hand over his face- Obi-Wan took a deep breath, telling his former master was never of the plan but it seemed that very little would ever go to plan when concerning Anakin Skywalker. 

“Is that why you didn’t allow me to fight Maul?” He asked, Obi-Wan nodded solemnly,

“You… you did not survive, I trained Anakin and… terrible things happened.”

He had told him what he remembered, the fall of the republic, and the fact that the Senate was being controlled by a Sith and about Palpatine  _ being  _ that Sith; there were some things he still couldn’t answer, like the fine details of the war- or the reason for Order 66 to come into play. Everything was still so muddled and incomplete and he groaned in frustration.

Why couldn’t the Force have just  _ given  _ him the knowledge he needed, the Force worked in mysterious and utterly bantha-shit crazy ways and it was starting to get on his nerves. Apparently it enjoyed making him depressed and frustrated all the time. 

He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to will away the migraine building behind his eyes; when that didn’t work he went over to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Corellian brandy. Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment when he poured it into a teacup instead of a tumbler. 

“It’s different this time, though.” Obi-Wan said softly, “things have changed.”

Qui-Gon inclined his head, deep in thought. “Like what?” 

He bit his lip, taking a long sip of his drink, “I’m not sure, but when I came back something changed- other than myself of course. There are new shatterpoints around us all.”

“Are you going to tell Anakin?” That was the question he was dreading- was he?  _ Could  _ he? Obi-Wan thought of the young boy on Tatooine, and now of the fine young man he was becoming… he thought of gold eyes and secrets and the anger and pain that came with them,

“I can’t, it… it would destroy him, to know that. To know what he did, even if it was in another life. I’m afraid of the consequences.” He drained the cup and poured another one, he saw the pity in the other man’s eyes, and the understanding. It was good to see Qui-Gon again, despite his misgivings and incapability of following  _ any  _ rules whatsoever- his old master was wise… well, wise enough to be considered so- whether or not he actually knew what he was doing was another question entirely.

“I’m very sorry that I failed you, Obi-Wan. I should have tried harder to keep him away from Palpatine. After you left I was… I was upset, and so was Anakin and I thought that… Well in truth I didn’t know what I was thinking. I was wrong, and I apologise.”

Obi-Wan really and truly didn’t know what to say to that- in his wildest dreams did he ever believe that Qui-Gon would be  _ upset  _ that he left the Order. Obi-Wan had been a duty to him, an obligation- yes they had cared for each other as far as Masters and Padawans went but Obi-Wan… he was never a choice, and he didn’t expect Qui-Gon to care for him like he was.

There was a beat of silence before Obi-Wan replied, “It… It’s alright… Some things I guess I cannot change, no matter what I may try.”

“You are not alone in this, I assume this is not going to go back to the Council?” Obi-Wan shot him a look and Qui-Gon chuckled, “I didn’t think so. What can I do to help?”

Obi-Wan’s mind reeled- there was so much about to happen in the next few years, so much to plan for. “I need you to do some research for me-” he sighed, “I fear that when I returned it sent a ripple in the Force, and that it did not go unnoticed.”

“What happened?” Qui-Gon leaned forward, interested,

Obi-Wan pursed his lips, “I was falling, it was… like nothing was real, like I was falling through the gap between what is real and what is not.”

Qui-Gon studied him for a moment, and there was a beat of silence as the gears turned in their brains, “I’ll see what I can find out about this in the archives. There are stories about the Force in there… things that might help.”

“Thank you, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said, he knew they had never seen eye-to-eye, quite literally from a certain standpoint, but he hoped that things would be different now. Anakin seemed to have done well under his influence and apprenticeship, and he was thankful that he had kept him safe when Obi-Wan himself couldn’t. 

“What are we going to do about the Sith Lord?” 

“There’s no way we can bring this up with no evidence- Palpatine already believes me to be a threat, obviously. Being in the Senate gives me a better vantage point to slow down whatever he has planned.” He took another sip, the pleasant burn at the back of his throat grounding him, “I need to build evidence, a case against him.”

“You have my help,” Qui-Gon replied, Obi-Wan turned back to the bottle of brandy, and poured a second cup. He handed it to Qui-Gon,

“Oh what?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Like I never knew you’d smoke those horrible Kessel spices when you thought I didn’t notice.” Qui-Gon conceded and took the cup, taking a sip without a hitch.

“Anakin will have to be told eventually,” he said, Obi-Wan sighed,

“I know… I just want to make sure he’s ready,”

_ “Here and now,  _ Padawan,” 

“I’m not your padawan any longer,” Obi-Wan said with an exasperated chuckle,

“Once a Jedi, always a Jedi. I know you will do what is right when the time comes,” Qui-Gon’s words were calm, knowing. Obi-Wan took comfort in them, no matter how much he thought it was just the alcohol talking.

Shmi Skywalker’s last plea to him rang loud like a bell in his mind, and he was reminded of Anakin’s dream. He knew it was wrong to sway Anakin away from the Code, towards  _ attachment,  _ but it was hardly like ignoring the bantha in the room worked so well the last time. Something had happened on Tatooine, a mistake that ripped the thread from the needle and built the foundations for his fall. Obi-Wan would be sure not to let whatever transpired then to come to pass.

Obi-Wan was not expecting Anakin to be back so soon- and certainly not with a very tired and  _ very  _ frazzled Quinlan Vos on his arm. To be fair, he should have expected the rib-crushing hug the moment his old friend found out he was back on Coruscant. He grunted and ignored the pain in his ribs, instead embracing his friend.

“Our little Obi- all grown up,” Quin wiped away an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye,

“You’re only two years older than me, Quin,” came Obi-Wan’s muffled reply. It was good to see him. They let each other go and sidestepped from the doorway, Quin motioned to the Twi’lek standing with Anakin to come forward,

“This,” he said proudly, “is my padawan, you remember little Aayla Secura.” Obi-Wan’s jaw dropped,  _ of course  _ he remembered the youngling Quin had practically adopted when they were young padawans; she smiled at him and greeted both him and Qui-Gon, who led them both away towards the living area. Anakin and Obi-Wan were left alone, at least for a minute, and there was something charged in the air as they made eye contact. He knew he had to say something.

“Thank you, Anakin, I appreciate everything you’ve done to help me,” he said softly, Anakin’s expression softened a fraction, “I’ll explain what I can in time- right now I need your help, and for you to  _ trust me.”  _

He knew it was not an easy thing- to trust someone who disappeared ten years ago and then just reappeared and fucked up his life in a matter of days, but he hoped that he and Anakin could form… some type of friendship. His memory did not serve him well, dominated by the horrors of his other life, but that didn’t mean all the light was lost, he remembered how close they were, and the days where the world did not seem so bleak as long as they had each other.

“I trust you.” He said, and Obi-Wan knew that he meant it. 

They made their way towards the rest of the group, who had sat down and were bent over the table, scrutinising its contents.

“You made tea?” Anakin asked, 

“It’s brandy,” Obi-Wan replied primly, Quin snorted at the scandalised look on Anakin’s face before turning back to the table.

Quin stared at the dart and made a face at the charred remains of the bugs. Obi-Wan sat next to Anakin, who offered him a small smile, he returned it easily.

“We really need to go to the Council about this,” Aayla said and pursed her lips, “I don’t like the look of these creatures- they’re Kouhuns, I’ve read about them before.” She reached out and flipped one of the carcusses onto its back, displaying multiple twig-like legs that curled in on themselves. “They’re from the swamps of Indoumodo in wild space, nasty things.”

“Do either of you recognise anything about this?” Qui-Gon held up the dart, Quin shook his head and so did Aayla. Obi-Wan knew where it was from, had seen what was happening on that planet. Rex and Cody were there. His heart clenched.

“I’ll call the Council together in the morning.” Quin said, “this needs a proper investigation.” the group agreed, 

“I never thought I’d see the day when you followed the rules,” Obi-Wan said with a smirk, 

Quin grinned at him, but then turned serious, “I want to make sure you’re safe.” 

“Will you be returning to Stewjon?” Aayla asked, Obi-Wan shook his head,

“Not if I can help it.” Qui-Gon rolled his eyes and he could feel Anakin’s disapproval of his choice, but they stayed quiet, they were never going to change his mind.

Quin, Aayla and Qui-Gon left not long after, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan alone once more. He knew it was too late to get any semblance of a good night’s sleep, his heart was heavy from worry about the coming years, and how his choices would affect the world around him. 

Leaving the Order had seemed like the right decision at the time, and he knew that things would be different now. There were so many possibilities that came with change, he worried about Ahsoka, and her place in the war- how he had never reached out over the years that built the rebellion against the Empire. He wondered now if she would even become Anakin’s own padawan, but dismissed it, of course she would, she was so important to so many people.

Obi-Wan looked over at Anakin, and in the back of his mind a little voice told him that he should probably just go to sleep- so of course he ignored it. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years,” he said, Anakin looked away,

“I can.” He replied, Obi-Wan smiled slowly, before taking a few steps forward and pulling the young man into an embrace.

“Obi-Wan what are you doing?” Anakin said with a little giggle in his voice,

The man sighed. “In the past few days I’ve been kicked, punched, kidnapped, fought for my life, yelled at several different people and nearly been assassinated. Now shut up and hug me.” 

Anakin laughed and wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan, being careful not to agitate his already injured ribs. Obi-Wan sighed, he was here for  _ Anakin,  _ the entire reason he was thrown back into this life was for Anakin’s sake, and he was going to honor his promise to Shmi Skywalker that he would protect him. No matter what.

They broke away and Obi-Wan ran a hand over his face, “It’s good to see you, Ani,” he said, Anakin’s face split into a wide grin at the sound of his old nickname, “although I have no  _ idea  _ what possessed you to cut your hair like this.” He lifted up a hand and ruffled the close-cropped blond hair.

Anakin let out an offended sound, “I’m sorry  _ you  _ used to have your hair like this!”

Obi-Wan let out a bark of laughter,  _ “I  _ only had my hair like that because Qui-Gon forced me to- he said that I caused too many diplomatic incidents with long hair,”

Anakin was struck dumb for a moment, eyes scanning Obi-Wan’s face as if imagining what he would look like with long hair. “Your hair caused diplomatic incidents?”

“Well… sort of?” Obi-Wan didn’t really know Qui-Gon’s logic behind that Force forsaken haircut, but whatever it was he seemed happy with it. Anakin seemed to pull it off really, the short hair somehow suited him, made the sharpness of his cheekbones stand out, and showed off his strong jawline. Obi-Wan let out a little cough, looking away from his friend and shoving whatever feeling had brought those thoughts to mind far, far back into the shame closet, never to be seen again. Hopefully.

“Do you really think I should go to my mother?” He asked, Obi-Wan nodded, 

“I’ll go with you, if you can wait a few more days,” he knew it was the right choice, and the smile that took over Anakin’s face was blinding.

They were quiet for a beat, before Anakin snorted, “I can’t believe you were so good looking you caused a diplomatic incident,”

Obi-Wan blushed indignantly, but chuckled along with him, “when we got back to Coruscant Qui-Gon chased me around the Temple with a pair of clippers- he eventually got a few other masters to hold me down.” Anakin burst into laughter, and Obi-Wan shoved him playfully, “It was traumatising!”

“It sounds hilarious,” he smiled, Obi-Wan conceded that- it was funny to think back on it like that. 

“Qui-Gon’s calamities far outnumber my own, padawan,” He sighed

Anakin rolled his eyes,“kriffing hell I know that,” he replied, 

“Oh?” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him, sending him a look that said  _ this should be interesting.  _ Anakin licked his bottom lip and sat forward, Obi-Wan steadfastly decided he did  _ not  _ track the motion, and instead he shifted to face Anakin better.

“When we were on a mission in the mid-rim, i don’t know a few years ago-” he spoke with his hands, gesturing into the air, “-he ended up getting drunk off his ass on this weird green liquor with these two Zeltrons and  _ I  _ was the one that had to pull him out of a pit of Gundark poodoo the next morning.”

“Let me guess- he also gambled away your entire wardrobe?”

_ “Twice!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan losing his shit? Im here for it  
> I'm terrified of what y'all think of this I'm not going to lie, but I truly hope you like it!!


	13. Heaven Help Me, I Need To Make It Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin was his home, his soul sang it in such a melancholy way he didn’t want to believe it. But he knew, deep down, he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brUH i've left you guys so long and I have missed you all so much!! but guess who is finally getting his gotdamn life together!!! I really hope you like this chapter- it's a bit wordy and more of a build-up and I am t e r r i f i e d of describing outfits because I read My Immortal in year 7 and now i live in fear. Also Bail and Obi-Wan totally fucked.

Quin shifted his weight onto one foot, relaxing his posture as he stood before the Council. If he was here because of something he’d done- then he could probably talk his way out of it… maybe, he didn’t know. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t.

“There was an attempt on Senator -

Kenobi’s life last night,” Mace Windu said. Quin’s casualness melted away; he stood up a little straighter, confusion taking over his face. Of course he’d heard about Obi-Wan, but he’d been off-world the past few days.

Windu held up a dart, small and unassuming- but Quin knew better… something about it left him uneasy. He stepped forward and the Jedi Master placed it in his palm. There was a sharp intake of breath, and Quin’s eyes fluttered shut; he felt the pounding of heavy rain on his skin, the rumble of distant thunder in his bones and the sterile white light of a laboratory. There was a… a small child, barely ten years old, staring up at whoever held the dart with wide, dark eyes.

“Kamino.” He stated, still feeling the phantom cold of the storm. “This dart is from Kamino.”

Yoda looked away, pensive, “go to Kamino, you must. Report to us what you find, you will.” 

As he left the Council chambers an uneasiness settled over him, but he shrugged it off, and it passed just as quickly as it came.

He made his way to the Room of A Thousand fountains where he knew he’d find his padawan. She’d often go there to meditate or read when they came back from a mission. Quin didn't like being shipped off world so soon after getting back, especially when it meant leaving Aayla behind; she would understand. It was for Obi-Wan, and he owed his life to that man, and he would do anything for his friend. In all honesty- it would do her good to stay at the Temple for a little while, she would be able to catch up on her studies and work towards her knighthood that was coming soon. Their bond hummed with calm, as it always did when they were content, which were becoming few and far between.

The dart was an interesting piece of enginuity- he’d not had enough time to properly study it at the Senator’s apartment- too busy getting over the wild story of what happened while he was gone. Everything was happening so quickly in the Republic now- the Jedi were being spread across the galaxy more and more as unrest took root in the senate. That’s what Obi-Wan was there for, he guessed, the Separatist Alliance were gaining power in the most unlikely places, and their leader- a shadowy figure, leading them against the Republic and their corruption. 

He did find Aayla, sitting cross legged on one of the grassy knolls with her eyes shut, deep in meditation. Quin didn’t want to disturb her so soon, and instead sat beside her, watching the spray of the fountains reflect the light into whispers of little rainbows. He wasn’t one for meditation, no matter how much he tried. Qui-Gon often said that Anakin had picked up the bad habit from him- there was another loth cat amongst the pigeons. Skywalker’s heroic idolisation of Kenobi was giving way to infatuation faster than a freight train run by weequays, the thought made him chuckle, which seemed to be enough to bring Aayla out of her meditation with a smile. 

“Do I want to know what you’re laughing at?” She asked and raised a tattooed brow, Quin shook his head,

“Nothing too important, still a little in shock that Kenobi of all people is a politician.”

“I’m not- he looks like he’d fit in,” Aayla replied, Quin chuckled,

“Looks can be deceiving, kid, Kenobi is just as prone to danger as I am,” he leaned back on the grass, using his palms to prop himself up, Aayla relaxed in a similar position.

His padawan rolled her eyes, “Nobody can do that, _nobody.”_ She said, Quin scoffed in mock offence and the two fell into a comfortable silence,

“The Council are sending me to investigate the dart,” he said, “they’re worried about it, and what it means,”

“How long are we leaving for?” Aayla asked, 

Quin shook his head, “you’re staying here, it’s important that this investigation is kept under wraps- and hey, it’ll be good for you to spend some more time at the Temple, you can make sure Skywalker doesn’t make a fool of himself in front of Obi-Wan,”

Aayla rolled her eyes, “like _that’s_ going to be easy.” She then struck him with a look- and he could feel the gentle push of her mind against his, as if she were looking for something, 

“You cared about him a lot, didn’t you?” She asked, Quin smiled, small and private, 

“Always have, kiddo, always have,” he said, half as though speaking to himself.

Quin took a small craft, Kamino was on the outer reaches of the galaxy, and it would take a few days to get there. It was stock full of the bare minimum- but hey, beggars can’t be choosers. Master Yoda and Master Windu met him at the Hangar, Aayla too; she looked confident, and Quin knew that one day she’d be a Master herself one day and take her place amongst the other Council members in the many years to come.

“Remember, this mission is top priority, and we need you to report to us if you find anything _immediately.”_

“When do I not follow orders?”

Windu was not amused, he turned to Yoda, “maybe Master Fisto is still avai-”

 _“That_ won’t be necessary- I promise, I’ll figure all of this out. It _is_ for Obi-Wan.” Quin said with a laugh, out of the corner of his eye he could see Yoda with a small smirk on his face. Aayla was hiding hers much better than the little green raisin. He bowed to the three of them, exchanging a small goodbye with his padawan before hurrying up the ramp and settling into the cockpit. 

He was in the air, almost out of atmo, when his commlink beeped, he groaned, _I haven’t even screwed anything up yet,_ he thought, picking it up.

“Vos.”

 _“Quin? Have I got you?”_ The voice at the other end of the line crackled, Quin sat straight up, fully aware of who he was speaking to,

“Obi-Wan?!” He said, a little befuddled, “How-”

 _“No time, just shut up and do as I say-”_ Quin nearly snorted, he’d heard those words before. _“-I have a bad feeling about this place, Quin, don’t trust everything you find, question everything…_ **_everything_ ** _.”_

“Obi-Wan, what’s wrong?” His friend was always weary of things, but there was something in his voice that just didn’t seem to add up. He was scared. The comm crackled, he was getting out of range.

 _“Be careful… be care-… they… chips…”_ The connection cut out, and Quin stared down at the little device confusedly, _what was he trying to tell him?_ He ran his tongue over his teeth, trying to think; Obi-Wan’s insight into things had gotten them out of trouble time and time again as padawans, he took it to heart, and as he made the jump into hyperspace, held his breath.

~

The morning was bright and clear, like it always was on Coruscant. Obi-Wan was dressed and already pacing his room. Thoughts of Quin still weighed heavily on his mind, he’d managed to swipe Anakin’s comm while he had been distracted. He wanted to tell him about Fett- something or other- he wasn’t entirely sure- but he would have figured something out! Either fortunately or unfortunately it didn’t come to that, but he thought what he _had_ been able to tell Quin would be helpful enough. However much had made it through that was.

He was going over his strategy and speech for the coming debate. It was the first time he would make an appearance in the Senate and he hated to admit his anxiety was eating at him. Stewjon had preferred to govern itself, and work away from that of the Republic, while still allowing trade and other things to flourish. 

That would be more difficult now, his sister had asked him to represent them in the Senate because of the growing threat of war. They didn't want war, but they would fight for the Republic if it came to it. 

_Do not let them break you._ She had told him before he left; they were close, she reminded him of Luminara in some ways, Quin in others, but it was startling how similar they were when together. A stray thought floated in his head- that one day Anakin might meet her, but he waved it away. 

Obi-Wan fiddled with the leather guards on his wrists, they were beautifully engraved- a gift, a welcome _home._ The word still perplexed him, home had been so many places over the past ten years, Naboo, Stewjon… Mandalore. Yet none of them could quite settle his soul in a way that mattered.

Stewjon was beautiful- in every sense of the word, it was not far from Naboo and had several moons, each with its own culture that had eventually combined into one on the planet itself. He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing the dark grey-blue slate of the mountain sides, and the waterfalls that fell into pools clearer than Rhodian crystals. Their culture had evolved and changed and they had welcomed him like family, how he missed it. He ran his thumb over the gentle engraving- a half moon, half sun on each wrist, two sides of the same coin. Perfect balance for a man that had none.

Obi-Wan smiled despite himself; the elders of Stewjon had an affinity to the Force, one rooted in the hearth and home, deep in the ground and connected to the very fibre of their being. Old magic, they called it; he knew the Force had many names, and that its connection was different for every being. They had looked at him with such sadness in their eyes at first, and told him to have hope.

He did.

Coming back to Coruscant wasn’t coming home, he knew that. He was too afraid to admit that it wasn’t really Coruscant, but Anakin. Anakin was home, his soul sang it in such a melancholy way he didn’t want to believe it. But he knew, deep down, he knew.

If someone had told him ten years ago, on that humid Tatooinian night, that he would be representing his homeworld as a _Senator_ he would have laughed so hard Qui-Gon might think he’d cracked open a bottle of Corellian Ale. 

He straightened his jacket- he didn’t think darker colours would suit him, but Padmé had insisted that the gold embroidery and detailing over the chest and collar looked good. She had helped him with his outfits- Force knows he had never had any real sense of style before leaving the Order, and Padmé had nearly burst into tears when he had tried to dress himself the first time he had turned up to the Nabooian Court in several different layers and what he was then told was a _curtain_. He was used to Jedi robes, sue him.

He turned back to the bed and picked up the matching sash- clasping it over one shoulder. He never understood how Padmé could _do_ anything in those insane outfits as queen, even now he felt a little worn out just putting it on. 

He had to admit though- his friend _knew_ her fashion, and her politics. There were several hidden pockets throughout, including one in the sash- perfect size for a vibroblade. Just in case. _Ever the resourceful one,_ he thought with a smile.

Anakin was already waiting for him out in the main room, dark Jedi robes stark against the bright blue backdrop of the sky. He had grown into a fine young man, in some ways he was still reminded of that sand-dune child that didn’t like the cold- but he knew that he was different now. Everything was different now.

He turned around to face him when Obi-Wan coughed a little, and he suddenly felt himself flush under the Jedi’s gaze. Anakin looked like he was about to hurl himself out the window. 

~

Anakin felt Obi-Wan come out of the room, his Force signature was so distinct- it reached out and touched everything in sight, he wondered what it would be like to reach out with his own, what they would be like when they touched. Anakin scrunched his eyes shut and violently swatted the thought away. The act was intimate, something done during meditation, it was like bearing your neck, becoming vulnerable to the other person in a way that non Force-sensitive beings couldn’t truly understand. 

He bit the inside of his cheek and made himself turn around when Obi-Wan eventually coughed. He was used to the useless diplomatic missions with Senators and dignitaries and over the top fancy clothes and kark like that he felt rather dulled to it all. 

What he hadn’t been expecting was how damn _good_ Obi-Wan looked in over the top fancy clothes and kark like that. Anakin clenched his jaw, afraid that if he didn’t he’d be caught gaping at the man in front of him, he schooled his features into what he hoped was a neutral expression and let his eyes wander.

The jacket itself was navy, embroidered with gold leaves that spanned the width of his chest, it looked sturdy, and the shape of it made Obi-Wan’s shoulders look impossibly broad. The sash across one shoulder was clasped with an ornate golden sun that reflected the light and turned his hair copper. The dark blue brought out just how bright his eyes were- like a clear day on Tatooine. His hands itched to reach out and run his hands along the fabric, up the line of the collar to Obi-Wan’s jawline, but he kept his hands firmly at his sides. He looked beautiful.

Anakin tore his eyes away when Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, fighting back the blush threatening to paint his face an impressive shade of red. He scrambled, trying to think of something to say in the silence that had fallen over them,

“If you weren’t so stubborn about this I’d tell you you looked nice.” 

Anakin may have been the Chosen One, but that didn’t stop him being socially inept to the point of no return. He mentally kicked himself for his faux par- he _had_ wanted to tell Obi-Wan he looked beautiful, stunning, kriffing _hot_ , but judging by the look on Obi-Wan’s face it was too late to say anything else and he began to wallow in his own inability to impress him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry does having good fashion sense offend you? Or are those Jedi robes fresh off the Coruscanti runway?” Obi-Wan said dryly, whatever air had passed between them now squashed like a bug under his boot. _Kriff they were black and knee high and_ Force _pull yourself together._

The Senator started forward, moving past him to the balcony and leaving Anakin to trail after him. He did not fail to catch the smirk on his face as Anakin repeated his words back to him in a mocking undertone, blushing harder.

Anakin rolled his eyes, “I still can’t understand why you won’t listen to me about going- It’s not safe for you on Coruscant- whatever debate this is isn’t going to fall apart without you here!” He called after him, 

Obi-Wan stopped a few paces ahead, allowing him to catch up. A shadow passed over the older man’s face. Anakin was more worried than anything else, nothing could be so important Obi-Wan should risk his life day in day out, especially not some stupid Senatorial debate.

“I am going to go to that debate, come hell or high water.” His tone was dark, determined in a way Anakin had never heard it before, and he didn’t like the fact that he liked it so much.

“Why the _kriff_ is this thing so important?” He asked in exasperation, getting into the speeder beside Obi-Wan, the man sighed, and Anakin could see the way his jaw tightened,

“We are on the brink of war, Anakin, an unnecessary one. If this bill passes then we will condemn the galaxy.”

“You’re talking as if you know what’s going to happen,” he scoffed, steering them into the early Coruscanti traffic. He looked over to the Senator, who did not return his gaze the same way, he’d half meant it as a joke- how could Obi-Wan know the outcome of the entire galaxy? It was impossible. In that moment Obi-Wan looked older, much older than he should have; Anakin feared that if he looked too deeply into those blue-grey eyes that he would see someone very different to the man next to him. 

~

Obi-Wan didn’t know what to say to him, so he just stayed silent. He couldn’t let himself get distracted right now- he had to worry about stopping Palpatine from seizing emergency powers from the Senate and passing the Military Creation Act. The Clone Wars were inevitable, he understood that- but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be changed.

They could be manipulated, slowed to a certain point. He didn’t want to have to see the Jedi become soldiers again… It was a weak hope, that if it were at all possible he could halt the war altogether, but that would take time and not for the first time, _time_ was something he didn’t have. 

He could feel Anakin’s gaze as they made their way into the Senate building. Obi-Wan shifted in his seat. His ribs were healing well enough but they still caused him some mild discomfort, and Anakin’s driving was sure to give him at least a few grey hairs.

Their arrival didn’t take long, and the two of them managed to make good conversation until they spotted their party. Padmé was dressed in a long robust dress with her hair pulled into twin buns, chatting to Bail and Qui-Gon. Bail looked as same as ever, a high collar coat and traditional Alderaanian robes in a deep blue. Obi-Wan recognised a few others, Senator Ono and Senator Chuchi, who he knew were going to back him against the coming bill.

Anakin stayed close to him, and Obi-Wan recognised him scanning the hall for any sign of a potential threat… he wondered- the whisper of a thought… maybe-

He gently pushed forward with the Force, reaching out and trying to send a comforting reassurance to Anakin. It was odd, like standing in a cold spot, or reaching out for a hand that moves away before you can get to it. Like waking something that had been dormant for a long, long time.

Anakin clearly felt it, as his head whipped to Obi-Wan, eyes wide with shock. Obi-Wan receded immediately, his own shock pulling him back like he’d been doused in cold water. Something pricked at him, pins and needles in his fingertips and for a moment the two gaped at each other, unaware of their audience.

They were only yanked out of their reverie when Bail made a little cough, a polite way of reminding them that _you’re in public, dumbass._ Obi-Wan blinked and turned to the group, throwing on a smile that he hoped hid at least some of the embarrassment.

“Bail!” He laughed as the man pulled him into a hug, Bail was an enthusiastic man and he was glad to see that hadn’t changed. 

“This is an important day, I’m glad you’re here, Obi-Wan.” the Senator said when he pulled away, 

“It’s good to see you, my friend,” Obi-Wan replied, before greeting Padmé in a similar way. It was good to see Bail again, they’d become close friends, and his wife Breha had introduced him to the most amazing tea he’d had in his life. Padmé had introduced them, and he liked the ideals that he stood for. Qui-Gon nodded to him, an amused and mischievous smile on his face.

“A Senator… I never would have thought,” the Jedi Master mused, Obi-Wan knew that voice, and it filled him with dread. “It would seem you’ve learned a lot since…”

Obi-Wan shook his head- _Force where’s the drinks cart when you need it_. 

Anakin looked between the two of them, “since what?” He asked, Padmé let out a little giggle and Bail quirked an eyebrow, 

“Qui-Gon would be referring to the time that as a padawan I ran away and joined a rebel group on Melida/Daan.” Obi-Wan said evenly, though not without humour. Anakin’s eyes bugged out of his head and Bail looked away, hiding his smile, 

“You actually-”

“Yes.” 

A stunned silence fell over the group and Obi-Wan felt himself going red- _Oh pull yourself together, Kenobi._ He was a Senator, there was no need to get flustered over his ex-Master bringing up embarrassing stories from his padawan days. Obi-Wan just thanked the stars he didn’t bring up the waterfall incident.

“I seem to remember the time you and Vos-”

 _“Thank you,_ Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan cut in firmly, unable to fight off the blush he hoped was not as evident as he feared. Incandescent joy radiated from both Anakin and Bail as they immediately began asking questions about his life. Obi-Wan was half-glad that Qui-Gon hadn’t spilled out _all_ the embarrassing stuff he had done as a padawan, he did _not_ need to give Padmé, Bail _and_ Anakin a reason to tease him. Not that Padmé had ever had any qualms about it anyway.

“Don’t worry, Senator Kenobi,” Qui-Gon said, entirely unphased and clearly enjoying himself, “it’s definitely not as bad as the time Anakin ended up-”

 _“Padmé, that's a lovely dress!”_ Anakin blurted, his voice cracking and cutting off Qui-Gon before he could continue. The group laughed and Obi-Wan had no trouble cocking his head and raising an eyebrow at the Jedi; infinitely smug that he was not the only one Qui-Gon had dirt on. Anakin looked away with a glare that was dampened by the very pretty blush staining high on his cheeks.

The laughter died down, eventually, when Qui-Gon promised that he would not disclose any more embarrassing padawan stories about either of them. The conversation turned to the more serious matter at hand, Obi-Wan and Padmé spoke in low tones about their opposition. He could see the fiery determination in her eyes, and he knew they would have a strong testimony.

They were going to be called in soon. The buzz of conversation that had filled the hallway was slowly filtering into the chambers as each representative took their places. The Banking Clan and the Trade Federation were standing off to the side, out of the way of anyone else, and Obi-Wan could see them conspiring out of the corner of his eye. They were slippery, and no doubt had many moves to be able to sway the Senate in their favour.

Apprehension churned in his stomach, it was his first Senatorial debate- and he came from a relatively unknown mid-rim planet, which already set him at a disadvantage. He was an unknown- and an ex-Jedi at that. Padmé had offered to speak on his behalf but he knew that would get them nowhere fast. The Senate was fickle, and the corruption ran deep. 

They needed something jarring- something they wouldn’t expect and something that would shake them to their core. So an ex-Jedi-turned-Senator who was _not_ afraid to expose each and every one of them was absolutely perfect.

There was something more, however- the anxiety he felt was laced with something else- _excitement._ It was the feeling he often got before a fight, and he calmed himself, using that feeling to focus on his task.

Padmé and Bail bid goodbye, and Qui-Gon wished him good luck as they made their way to their pods. Anakin and Obi-Wan made their way into the chambers, and he was glad to have his presence with him.

Little did either of them know of the long dormant bond, one that had been twisted and crushed and reshaped, finally echoed with life again; too fragile to be anything more than a thin thread of gossamer smoke, but one that had the potential to burn brighter than twin suns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wait until I put Obi-Wan in a kilt.


	14. You're My Head, You're My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “By allowing this bill to pass you are knocking the first domino, pulling the first thread that will unravel the galaxy bit. By. Bit. Do not make this mistake.” Not again, he finished in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a WEEK!! a WEEK!! I'm so sorry guys, i've starved you lot so long of an update.  
> THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER OF PART II!   
> My outline is not going to plan so we just gonna see where this goes, and to make up for being away so long this is 5k of Obi-Wan appreciation!

Padmé was a very clever woman. That’s why she had every faith that Obi-Wan Kenobi could get their point across. It was good to see him smile like that again. She remembered the first few months after leaving Coruscant… he never said anything to her outright, but she knew how to read people after spending so long in the political milieu of Naboo, and Obi-Wan was so… sad. There was no other word for it. She saw it in the distant looks he would get, when he would just stop in the middle of a task and stare down into nothing. He looked at her that way a few times, and Padmé didn’t need to be Force sensitive to know that his wounds ran deeper than just missing home.

Obi-Wan and Padmé had formed such a strong friendship- something that had never been romantic and would feel odd to be now. That wasn’t that she didn’t find him attractive, because she most definitely had a crush on him during her days as queen, but that had been nothing more than a passing fancy.

Obi-Wan’s council had been her saving grace as queen of Naboo- they had worked together, both hellbent on weeding out corruption. Obi-Wan was calculating, cunning in a way that Padmé was glad she was not his enemy. Standing at her pod she waited for the Chancellor to begin the session.

Obi-Wan was not far away, he stood tall and proud, scanning over the crowd before catching her eye and winking. Padmé smirked back at him, and watched as Anakin furrowed his brow behind him-  _ oh that’s interesting  _ she thought, and turned away to look for Bail, who would no doubt be itching to start the proceedings. She eventually did lock eyes with the Alderaanian, and they exchanged a silent nod.

“Senators, if you would kindly take your places,” Palpatine’s voice rang out through the hall, echoing in the chamber. “We are here today to discuss the Military Creation Act, and it’s importance in aiding us in the coming threat against the Separatist Confederacy. This act, if passed will allow the Republic to defend itself via means of a Grand Army of the Republic, in case any militant threats arise that would put the peace of the galaxy in danger.”

Padmé inclined her head, listening carefully to every word. She knew what it was really saying; they wanted an excuse for war. They wanted to compromise the galaxy- divide it. This bill was not as innocent as protecting the Republic.

Obi-Wan knew that too. He did not trust the Chancellor- although to those who did not know him it was not obvious. She could see the subtle tightness in his jaw, the tenseness in his shoulders and the defiant flicker in his eyes. He looked dangerous, calm, but dangerous. Like he was preparing for a fight.

Multiple Senators spoke at once, filling the chambers with a cacophony of sound- several alien dialects spoke wildly as their translators tried their best to keep up, but in the middle of it all, Obi-Wan pushed his pod forward, silent and determined. The Senators eventually fell into stunned silence as Obi-Wan waited, he commanded their attention, even while unknown he had the respect of the room- Padmé noticed the way he leaned forward ever so slightly, something she had taught him to keep them engaged. 

“The Military Creation Act is a farce.” He said evenly, his voice carrying, immediately she could feel the room shift, and she waited for the pin to drop, for the countless myriad of voices to call out and challenge him, but none did. They waited, cautious,  _ curious.  _

Padmé didn’t know if it was the Force, that Obi-Wan was drawing it towards him or something- she didn’t feel  _ compelled  _ to listen. She  _ wanted  _ to. She looked over to Qui-Gon- whom she expected to be as perfectly reserved as usual, radiating that calm amusement. But she saw the glint of pride in his eyes, and knew it was reflected in her own.

~

Bail Organa was a simple man- he liked fine wine, he liked the mountains and loved his wife and his job. He had known Padmé for a long time, and respected her deeply for her determination and faith in the people. So when Obi-Wan Kenobi, young, gangly and sure of himself graced the Nabooian Court he thought he was in for a pleasant, polite new friendship.

Alas, he would look back on that initial thought with fond exasperation and an  _ oh you poor innocent man. _

Obi-Wan Kenobi, for all intents and purposes, was calm, logical, and everything one might expect someone who had grown up as a Jedi to be. That was until he sat in a room long enough for the young eighteen year old, who was still gangly and dimpled with youth, to slowly pick apart and talk circles around several experienced delegates and politicians; eventually coaxing all the ugly truths out of them while Bail himself smiled into his glass and tried desperately not to snort Blackmoon Ale out of his nose.

There was absolutely no  _ wonder  _ he and Padmé got along so well. And thus was the beginning of a wonderful… rather less polite, friendship.

He could see some of Padmé’s influence on him, but there was something undeniable about the lilt to his voice on certain words, cutting through his usual crisp Coruscanti accent and pulling the audience in. He’d spent enough time around Jedi to know it wasn’t the Force, it was passion, and talent and a fair bit of Padmé’s training that coaxed the crowd into silence, he forced down a chuckle- Padmé was probably mouthing along. 

He looked up, scanning the faces of the other dignitaries as Obi-Wan made his opening statement. Several other Senators had creased brows, weariness and thinly veiled antipathy evident on their faces; others were stone cold, no emotion or light behind their eyes as they zeroed in with single minded focus on Obi-Wan. 

Bail caught sight of the Chancellor- and then really did chuckle- just quiet enough for himself to hear. The old man’s face mirrored that of a storm, wrinkled face caught in a battle between contempt and disgust. He chuckled again, wondering why he thought anything had changed. Old fart usually looked like he'd just taken a great big bite out of a Tarissian lemon.

Bail’s attention drew back to Obi-Wan, who stood like a star in the middle of the chambers, drawing everyone else into his orbit. 

“This bill will not bring us protection- it will be an act of war against the Separatist government.” Obi-Wan said, “fearmongering and corruption is clouding your view- the Separatists have made no military advances or threats against the Republic- and you must understand the core values of each party.” a beat, and murmurs broke out, but were quickly quieted when he began to speak again,

“We must understand the root of this divide, and we cannot do that through  _ brute force-” _

“You expect us to  _ negotiate  _ with them?!” A voice came, Bail’s attention whipped to an advancing pod, going toe-to-toe with Obi-Wan. It was the Banking Clan- obviously.  _ Low down, dirty, corrupt little- _ “Who are you to tell us what is good for the Republic?”

Obi-Wan inclined his head, regarding them for a moment, “I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, representative of Stewjon.”

~

Anakin hated,  _ hated,  _ politics. The thought of sitting still, in a stuffy chamber just made him feel like his head was going to explode. Then Obi-Wan started talking. He stared at the man, who spoke like the sirens of Mez Kandoor- or what he expected them to sound like, he sucked in an inaudible breath. When he stated his name for all the Senate to hear he could see the physical change in the room. 

For the longest time there was a silence from the Banking Clan representative, how did they know him? Had they met before? Anakin looked between the two of them, seeing the cool, challenging amusement in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“What does  _ Stewjon  _ know about Republic affairs?” The Muun said icily, “you have not been a part of the Senate for nearly twenty years!”

“Stewjon recognises that this period is tumultuous for all the galaxy,” Obi-Wan replied calmly, “and as I would understand it- the Banking Clan would benefit the most from this war- your entire premise is compromised, if there were to be a war the Banking Clan would benefit the most. The conflict would be beneficial to you. Conflict is good for business, no? Negotiations would disrupt that, and Gods forbid the issue is resolved peacefully. Hm?”

Anakin’s eyes drew to the other pod, an impressed and quiet  _ oh damn  _ on his lips. The Muun floundered for a moment, 

“The Banking Clan is  _ neutral. If  _ there is a war we will support the Republic however we can!”

“Neutrality is a dangerous concept, Chairman Hill, especially if you play both sides of the war.” Obi-Wan’s tone was even, deadly in a way that made Anakin’s knees weak.

“You speak of treason, Kenobi.” His opponent’s eyes narrowed, there was a tense beat of silence before the Chancellor began to speak,

“It is true, Senator Kenobi- what you speak of… it is troublesome, to say the least.” Palpatine moved forward in his pod, and Obi-Wan straightened slightly (if that was even possible, the man’s posture was incredible). He looked exactly the same- but there was just  _ something  _ that changed about him- there was no cool amusement from picking apart his opponent in front of the crowd. Anakin felt a tug, between his lungs, and he could feel the blatant hatred emanating from the man.

It was horrible, like he was being hollowed out, scraped clean and  _ burning.  _ He felt Obi-Wan’s hatred like the spatter of lava on his skin, his vision blurred for a moment as he tried to block off whatever it was. 

“I understand that it is  _ troublesome,  _ Chancellor, however I also understand that these are  _ troublesome  _ times. We jump into action without considering the effects they will have, and the alternate ways the Republic can go about this conflict and make the necessary changes.”

“Why would the Republic change? The Separatists are clearly a threat!” Senator Pel Talon moved forward, closely followed by Bail, who hovered next to Obi-Wan.

“Why do you believe the Separatists were formed? Out of pure villainy and cartoon hatred for the Republic?” There was a point there, Anakin thought, the Senate was taking all of this at face value- what were the deeper issues? “There is a reason for all of this, I say we hear what they have to say, how we can compromise and  _ reform.”  _

“The Separatists have already threatened us enough- creating a military would simply allow us to protect ourselves- surely that is why you are here, Senator Kenobi, to protect… those you love.”

There was an emphasis on the Chancellor’s words, soft and kindly- almost sympathetic, but he could feel Obi-Wan’s distrust, his stubbornness that those kind words would not get to him. Anakin shifted where he stood, under the scrutinizing gaze not directed at him, but at Obi-Wan. Palpatine was being perfectly reasonable… but he just couldn’t help but understand Obi-Wan’s stand point. 

“I am here to protect the Republic, from enemies seen…” he paused, narrowing his eyes, “and unseen.”

~

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, turning from the Banking Clan representative and the Chancellor, now directing his attention to the majority. The Senators closest to the Chancellor were more well off, an inner circle if you will. He could feel the titular motion of the Force, the trepidation and anxiety and blackness in the hearts of the corrupt. He was not talking to them, he was not to the minority that ruled this building. Obi-Wan was talking to the people that wanted change, that wanted to make the galaxy a safer place- make their own homes a safer place.

“There is no way I can tell you the outcome of the conflict that is about to rain down upon us all. Every choice we make has a consequence we may not know the full extent of.” He allowed himself a small smile, the irony of his words not lost on him. “I cannot tell you that there will be no suffering; I cannot say that everything will work itself out. But what I can tell you is that an act of war is not against the Separatists, it is against ourselves- think about what war would mean- and why it would be necessary? The mentality of  _ us  _ against  _ them  _ is archaic.” He hardened his words, he  _ wanted  _ them to know the magnitude of what would happen, he  _ wanted  _ them to feel the same roiling sense of doom he felt.

“The systematic change that we promised to strive for has become riddled with corruption and pride. We as a Republic are better than that.

“There is a  _ reason  _ so many systems receded from the Republic, corruption has festered too long, and has grown into a beast. The Republic needs to  _ reform,  _ to root out the infection and the hate,” Obi-Wan intentionally looked to the Chancellor, and took a dark pleasure in the fury that slipped past those well crafted barriers. He turned back to the delegation,

“We need to  _ listen  _ to those who are being wronged… this galaxy is better than civil war. But we can only achieve that through communication. Hostility is not the answer. 

“The Military Creation Act is something that can and  _ will  _ be seen as an act of war, and will have dire consequences for all involved. This will affect every system; every planet; and every person in this galaxy.

“So do not place blame, do not allow yourself to be swayed by easy words and empty promises of corrupt politicians, war will not make anyone wealthy but those who already hold power over those that cannot be heard over the battle cries they will so desperately try to tell you is Republic  _ pride.  _

“By allowing this bill to pass you are knocking the first domino, pulling the first thread that will unravel the galaxy bit. By. Bit. Do not make this mistake.”  _ Not again  _ he finished in his mind. He felt something brush against it- curious and… frightened… but it was gone before he could examine it. He let out a slow breath. The Senate was silent, so achingly silent he could hear the blood rushing through his veins. He caught sight of Padme, who  _ beamed  _ at him, Bail wore a very similar expression; he wanted to smile back, but held his composure, instead waiting in limbo for someone to do  _ something.  _

It was Mon Mothma that began to clap first, after what felt like several hours but really had only been a minute. The Senate erupted, voices calling for investigations, accusations and several other things in several other different dialects. He swelled at the reaction. This was just the beginning, there was so much to do, so much to stop; Obi-Wan hoped that he could do it right this time, that he would not fail.

He turned to ever so, expecting Anakin to be half-asleep, but the young man was wide-eyed and more awake than Obi-Wan had ever seen him. He was smiling too, unashamed to show his pride in him. It was a lop-sided smile, one so charmingly disarming that Obi-Wan found he couldn’t look at it for too long. He refused to ask himself why.

~

Obi-Wan felt worn down to the bone by the time the Senate meeting winded to a close. They’d been at this for the last three hours and Padme was speaking her heart out against the conflict, and although it was slow going he could feel the tides slowly turning. That was good- brilliant even. With the Senate at odds Padme and Bail could handle things for a few days without him.

“The Senate will need to put this to a vote.” The Chancellor said, and Obi-Wan had to hold back a sneer. “We will reconvene in a week’s time to decide the fate of the Republic Military.”

Obi-Wan felt himself breathe for the first time since stepping inside the chambers. He locked eyes with Bail and Padme and shared a half-smile. They had done well, and their strategy for undermining the Banking Clan and the Chancellor was somewhat successful. There was still so much to be done. He knew that it would take time and effort but even then he could see the beginnings of doubt in Palpatine’s Senate. The delegation of two thousand had not had enough evidence to expose the corruption that had left the republic rotten to the core, and by the time they did it was too late.

The pod moved back into its station with a gentle whir and hiss, Obi-Wan looked next to him, at Anakin for the first time in three hours.

“Told you I’d be fine.” He said matter of factly, Anakin scoffed, rising from his seat with a firm hand on his lightsaber, still looking for threats,

“We’re not clear yet, Obi-  _ Senator.”  _ He corrected himself, and it felt odd for Anakin to sound so formal, they exited their pod and the buzzing of the hallway echoed with far off conversation.

“I honestly don’t know how you can do it,” the Jedi muttered, “argue and argue for hours on end,”

“Oh I’m sure you’d have no trouble with  _ that,”  _ Obi-Wan cocked his head and smirked, Anakin sputtered for a minute,

“Hey! I’m a very agreeable person!”

“He argued.”

That elicited a laugh, and Obi-Wan held himself back from bumping his shoulder fondly, it was not proprietary to be so friendly with a Jedi, and it certainly wouldn’t help his image. His affiliation to the Jedi would bring complications, his opponents would no doubt use it against him. Obi-Wan settled for a charming smile, polite and not too fond- he hoped.

“Obi-Wan! That was amazing!” Padme rushed up to him, leaving Bail and Qui-Gon in the dust as her dress rustled at the movement, Obi-Wan laughed, accepting her hug and clapping Bail on the back when he got into arm’s reach. The three of them held bright smiles, and just over Padme’s shoulder he could see Qui-Gon, politely detached to the naked eye, but Obi-Wan could see the approval and pride in his eyes. This was a new time, a new era and a new life.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but let his eyes stray to Anakin, who observed the scene with a very specific but unreadable look, like forgetting a word that’s on the tip of your tongue he couldn’t place it. He reached within himself again, like he had earlier, and stretched out, brushing gently, hesitantly against his mind. 

This time Anakin didn’t have such a violent reaction, but his eyes widened ever so, and he looked at Obi-Wan so intensely that he almost forgot to breathe. Then again everything about Anakin was intense… he couldn’t understand it, probably never would. Like touching heavenly fire. Obi-Wan let himself relax, and it was a moment- so quickly he almost missed it- that he felt the buzz of Anakin’s own mind against his; the feather-light kiss of his own Force signature brush against his own. Suddenly Bail was pulling Obi-Wan into a conversation about some strategy or other. And it was gone.

They managed to get away from the fray of Senators questioning and interrogating and poking and prodding at Obi-Wan in order to make it back to the speeder. They had a standard week until the next hearing where they would be put to a vote on whether or not the Military Creation Act would pass. That meant a week to go to Tatooine… Obi-Wan didn’t know how to feel about going back for so many reasons. He’d stayed far away from the outer-rim planet since he’d brought Anakin to the Temple. There was… there was something about it, the trepidation of seeing the Lars family homestead, especially when the image of it in flames and burnt to a crisp was so deeply branded into his memory. It was always the most horrific ones that embedded themselves so well.

Anakin kept looking at him. Just a glance at first, then eventually abandoning all hope of keeping his eyes on the lanes and just blatantly staring at Obi-Wan with wide blue eyes. Obi-Wan wanted to see how long it would take him to snap if he ignored him. 

They were nearly halfway back when he did eventually slam on the breaks, nearly causing several different accidents and a beautiful myriad of curse words painting a wonderful picture of what they would do to them both had they gotten the chance.

“What the kriff was that?!” Anakin said, completely and utterly perplexed. Obi-Wan didn’t say anything for a moment,

“Well you see- I think that Dug told you to shove your-”

“Not that!” He growled, “you know what I mean! The thing that happened at the Senate building! You!- I!- We!-” 

“Take your time, don’t hurt yourself,” he really couldn’t hold back the smirk, no matter how hard he bit his lip, Anakin groaned in frustration, scowling through a blush. He resumed his earlier track, easily gliding through the air and entering the traffic once more.

“Did you feel it too?” His voice was smaller now, uncertain, 

“I did,” Obi-Wan said truthfully, “I don’t know what it is.”  _ Lie.  _ “And I don’t know where it comes from.”  _ Lie.  _ “But I do think a speeder is not the best place to have this conversation.”

“Why?” Anakin asked defensively, brow knit, 

“Because you’ve nearly killed us both once already and-  _ KRIFF ANAKIN!” _

Anakin veered violently to the left, missing another speeder by a hair’s breadth.

“Yeah, okay, sure,” he laughed, eyes sparkling with mirth as Obi-Wan’s foot collided with the empty space where the brakes should have been with a  _ thud _ . “Home then talk, good idea.” 

~

Hearing Obi-Wan talk had been… it had… kriff he couldn’t find the words. It was dizzying, drunk on the steady lilt to his voice and the calm authority he radiated in the Force. He breathed in, realising with a small shiver that the golden glow of late afternoon was giving way to the more watery light of early evening. He thought back to that morning, when he had fleetingly wished to feel that brush of Obi-Wan’s mind against his and mentally scoffed. The Gods either loved him or hated him. He didn’t really know anymore. 

They stood at opposite ends of the caf table, and had been since they’d walked back into the apartments. Obi-Wan wasn’t saying anything and neither was he-  _ why  _ wasn’t he saying anything? Why wasn’t Anakin? He opened his mouth to speak but found the words refused to leave his throat. He wanted to combust. He wanted to lie down. He wanted to have a very bitter caf. 

They blinked at each other for another minute. It felt like an hour, probably was, he didn’t know. He didn’t know  _ anything  _ right now. Anakin licked his lips. Trying to make sense of everything around him when Obi-Wan was looking at him like  _ that.  _ Like he expected him to just up and burst into flames at any second.

Obi-Wan’s Force signature burned so bright. He wanted to reach out and intertwine it with his own, but fear pricked at him- it would be too much… the buzzing in his head was too loud for other people, too much. 

But  _ oh  _ how the brush of Obi-Wan’s mind had felt against his own. Like those few hours in a rare Tatooinian spring he had seen as a child, where the funnel flowers had taken advantage of the extra moisture in the air and bloomed everywhere, turning the scabbard rocks into towers of glistening white.

He wanted to reach out, so,  _ so  _ badly he wanted to feel that again. Neither of them were going to speak, that much was obvious; he swallowed and shut his eyes, letting the Force flow through him, letting his mind move forward at an agonisingly slow pace. There was a tingle, the promise of warmth, and he felt the easy ebb and flow of the Force, the rustling and buzzing in the back of his mind singing like a choir.

He sucked in a sharp breath and closed his eyes when Obi-Wan reached out on his own, meeting him in the middle. It was so quiet, and Anakin felt like his lungs were starved of air. He could feel himself being drawn in, he wanted to rush towards him, to fuse their signatures together in an almighty crash but he clenched his fists by his sides. Forcing himself to  _ slow down.  _

The buzzing in the back of his head got louder, turning into the heavy beat of a drum, he wondered if Obi-Wan could hear it

He stepped forward, feet moving of their own volition. Anakin reached out- physically this time, and was pleasantly shocked to feel Obi-Wan’s hand already outstretched. They made contact and something  _ sang.  _ Like the crescendo of a song, the first rush of adrenaline when an engine of a starfighter powered you forward, the freedom of open air. 

Anakin closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in the feeling of their Force signatures slowly stitching themselves together. For a moment everything was pitch black, the echo of a light just beyond his eyelids shining. A gossamer thread pulling them in, holding them and saying that  _ here. Here is where you belong. _

Then there was white. Something made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end and he felt the booming of the Force hitting him in his chest over and over and over again. It didn’t hurt, he felt  _ alive. _

Something scratched on his skin- the memory of a dream, he breathed out slowly, feeling those walls fall down like fabric. He watched an angel fall from nothingness; but it was no longer that nameless figure he had dreamed of on the dry and cracked heat on Tatooine as a child.

He watched as Obi-Wan’s patchwork force signature melded itself into that bright light he saw in front of him, and the way his hair whipped around his face, the soft parting of his lips. He felt the Force cry out in triumph, a battle cry. 

There was only the light that encompassed them both as Anakin opened his eyes. Obi-Wan stared back at him, blue-grey eyes wide and shining. The light enveloped him body and soul and Anakin swore that his heart beat at the pace of the drums in the Force. Obi-Wan reached up a hand, touching his face and  _ smiling.  _

Anakin finally felt the Force begin to quieten, and the thread that connected them faded- it was still there, he could feel the tug of it in the back of his mind- but it was no longer a visible or tangible thing. Obi-Wan suddenly seemed very close to him now, he could very easily drop his head onto the other man’s shoulder and their hands were still clasped together.

“Wha… You…” Anakin tried to force the words out, but his brain seemed to be preoccupied with this new bond and how  _ very  _ lovely it was to be this near Obi-Wan.

The man himself didn’t seem to be faring any better, he looked a little dazed, a light flush on his cheeks. “I… I honestly have no idea how- or what- the  _ fuck  _ that was.”

Anakin snorted, “Me either but…” he struggled, for a lack of as extensive and sophisticated vocabulary as Obi-Wan, “pretty… pretty cool.”

Obi-Wan grinned at him,  _ kriff  _ how Anakin loved his smile. He felt something tug- between his lungs where the thread had been, 

“It’s a bond!” He said suddenly,

“What?” Obi-Wan’s brow shot up to his hairline,

“A bond! It’s different to a training bond- stronger I think, Qui-Gon probably knows a lot more about it but… I think the Force is fucking with us.”

“Anakin!” He scolded, “language.”

Anakin laughed “sorry.” He was not sorry.

Their sudden closeness became very apparent, and Obi-Wan was the first to take several steps back. Anakin pouted, wondering why  _ now  _ of all times the man wanted to put some distance between them. 

“Tatooine.” Obi-Wan said quickly, “we have a week before I need to be in the Senate again, and it might give us time to figure out whatever…  _ this  _ is.” he motioned between the two of them.

Anakin nodded, hand instinctively going to the place between his lungs where he had seen the thread coming from. He swallowed, the wall that had blocked him off and the hands that had held him down nothing but ghosts in his mind- the dream. The dream from when he was a boy before he became a Jedi was clear as day now. Obi-Wan had been falling. 

He guessed the answers he seeked would come with their return to Tatooine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooooo Tatooine arc anybody?? I think some... old friends.... might need to make a reappearance.... ;;;;;;;;;;;))))))))))))))))))))  
> I worked so damn hard on that speech guys, i'm the speaker for a public speaking team so i think?? I have some experience? but to be completely honest i have no idea if it had any coherence so im sorry if it's not great!!


	15. And The Heart Is Hard To Translate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was like thinking in a language he didn’t speak, one he didn’t know existed before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  
> okay.  
> Part III!! Tatooine Arc!! Are we ready? because I am most certainly not. I am so excited for this and to see where it goes- as usual i have no real plot but four very specific scenes that /should/ make sense by the end- at least I hope so  
> I'm not too sure how to feel about this chapter? I worked hard on it but I'm not too happy with the outcome, but the next chapter should be a lot better!!

This trip marked the second time Anakin was sneaking offworld under the cover of darkness. He didn’t know how to feel about Obi-Wan, who blew hot and cold at different points in their… friendship? Could he call it a friendship? There was so much history between them, sometimes from the way that Obi-Wan looked at him he didn’t think he knew all of it. That the man knew much more than Anakin could ever understand. But that was ridiculous.

He was in the cloak he’d found in their Temple apartments as a kid, Obi-Wan had forgotten it… or left it, he liked to think it was the former. It probably wasn’t. He wrapped it tighter around himself, it was heavy and dark and made him feel safe. A welcome comfort against the cold Coruscanti night. 

Artoo blipped nervously as he pulled the hood over his face, hurrying towards the entrance. He was _ not  _ leaving his little droid all alone on Coruscant with no supervision. Half out of pure love for his little buddy, half out of fear that by the time they get back he’d have enslaved half the Republic.

When he had originally told Obi-Wan he hadn’t been a fan of the idea, but eventually conceded when Artoo promised not to zap him for anything he might consider quote:  _ organically stupid.  _ Obi-Wan still wasn’t fond of bringing him.

The man himself was already waiting for them in the hangar, the looming shadow of the ship shielding them from the city lights and any unwanted eyes watching them. Obi-Wan smiled at him, wide and bright and  _ oh  _ that was not a friendly feeling Anakin got in his stomach. He pushed a little with this new bond, something akin to affection he hoped; it was childish to think that Obi-Wan could ever see him as anything more than the sun-scorned child.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and his smile slipped for a moment as the feeling seemed to hit him. Anakin bit his lip, looking down and retreating before he could be told to stop. That it was inappropriate, they still didn’t know why it was there- and just because it  _ was  _ there didn’t mean Obi-Wan  _ wanted  _ it. 

But it felt so  _ good  _ to have that bond, that lightness in his chest where they were connected. Obi-Wan’s presence was soothing at the back of his mind, calm and steady and  _ there.  _ It was like thinking in a language he didn’t speak, one he didn’t know existed before.

There was an awkward silence as they stood in the middle of the hangar, hidden by the ship. Anakin took the opportunity to let his eyes flick over the manufacturing.  _ Corellian, T5-90… 0.5x hyperdrive… kriff was that a Nubian 4-17 processor?  _ He felt a sudden itch to reach for his toolbelt hanging from his hip next to his lightsaber. It was only when he realised Obi-Wan was staring at him with  _ that  _ look that he coughed and hurried up the ramp, grabbing his bag as he went. Anakin pretended not to hear the chuckle that followed him.

He began inspecting the cockpit, and began preparing them for take off. It would take a day to get there; he hoped that his mother was okay. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to control his breathing as her screaming rang in some far off, unknown distance. A hand on his shoulder pulled him away from it, and Obi-Wan’s eyes shone with understanding.

“She’ll be okay, I know it.”  _ No you don’t.  _ A small, nasty little voice in the back of his head whispered,  _ stop acting like you know everything.  _

“Yeah…” He didn’t look back as he turned away, trying to beat the little voice into submission. He got the familiar dizzying array of butterflies as he sank into the pilot seat. The thrum of the engine was enough to calm and conflicting thoughts of his mother and Obi-Wan from his mind. 

When he was flying it was like there was nothing else around him, it was just him, the controls, and a boundless sky he’d dreamed about since he was a boy.

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything as they made their way out of atmo, nor as Anakin punched in the coordinates for his homeworld. He didn’t look at him, instead focusing on the streaming white stars that passed them as they jumped through hyperspace. It was still cold in space. 

He pulled his cloak even tighter around him, trying to center himself in the rumble of engines and letting the neverending torrent of the Force flow through him; from his temples to his toes, washing over him- like having one of the tapestries in the Temple fall on him, smothering him with fabric in some sort of wonderful way.

The Force welcomed him like an old friend. And the steadiness of Obi-Wan’s presence helped as he tried to smooth over the rough edges of his mind.

Like all peace, it didn’t last. It never did.

Those crawling hands made their way back around his neck, ghostly forms choking him, pinning him to his seat. He couldn’t breathe, smoke and ash filled his lungs and it burned to breathe. His grip on the arms of the chair turned his knuckles white, and in the far reaches of his consciousness he could have sworn he’d heard the rumble of a storm, so similar to the growl of a Krayt dragon.

That comforting blanket, drowning him in the Force turned rotten, becoming suffocating as the hands wrapped it around him, tighter and tighter and tighter- he couldn’t breathe. Dry cracked heat scratched at the back of his throat and he saw his mother- his kind, caring mother, laying bloodied and beaten and mutilated in his lap. Her hand was on his cheek, leaving smears of red in its wake as it fell to the ground and the light behind her eyes flickered out.

He blinked, and it was not his mother.

_ Obi-Wan. _

He was in pain, Anakin could see it in his eyes, but still he flashed that charming smile, a touch too fond to be casual. His teeth were stained with crimson and a gash stretched across his forehead. He scrambled at the bond as the smile began to fade, faster and faster the light was going out and the tighter his lungs became. He couldn’t breathe.

Anakin yanked the bond with incredible force, shooting out of his chair and nearly catapulting himself out the viewport of the cockpit. It took him several calming breaths to finally clear the white spots from his eyes and realise that Obi-Wan was holding him, rubbing soothing circles on his back and whispering soothing words into his ear. 

“It’s alright, Ani, it’s okay,” he said, Artoo blipped nervously next to him as they fell to their knees, trying to offer whatever comfort he could. Anakin opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a choked sob, terrified that those ghostly hands would come back and rip him away from any sort of solace he found.

He gripped Obi-Wan tighter.

_ Nothing would take away the people I love,  _ he thought fiercely,  _ not you, not my mother. I will  _ never  _ let anything happen to you. Never. _

When he finally calmed down he was hollow, his heart didn’t feel like it was beating anymore. Obi-Wan pulled away from him, trying to catch his eye as he kept them firmly planted on the wall. He didn’t want to look at Obi-Wan, to see his eyes glassy and lifeless, to watch as the all consuming light in him was snuffed out like a dying flame. He shook all over, the ever present reminder of how cold space was hitting him like hundreds of needles in his skin.

“Anakin, look at me,” Obi-Wan said calmly. His head was like lead, but Anakin eventually pulled himself up and looked into those eyes, terrified. He wasn’t met with the deathly pale face that had come to him in his dreams, but the soft and small smile that always seemed to be there when Obi-Wan thought he wasn’t noticing- but this time in full view,

“There we go,” his tone was soft, and Anakin nearly collapsed into the soothing warmth Obi-Wan sent to him through the bond, letting it weed out the cold.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry- I-” he couldn’t force the words out, like his mouth wanted to form a sentence but he was thinking in a language he couldn’t speak. Eventually he just gave up and clenched his jaw shut.

“It was my mother again,” he said eventually, “and you.” 

Obi-Wan seemed taken aback by that- “Me?” He asked, Anakin nodded and rubbed a hand over his face,

“It was- my mother was dying in my arms… and then I blinked and it was no longer her- it was you.”

“Well, I think as you can very clearly see, I-” He took Anakin’s hand in his own and brought it to his chest, Anakin suppressed a shudder, “-Am not dead- reach out with the Force, do I have a heartbeat?” He did reach out with the Force, and as sure as the suns there it was, strong and steady beneath his palm. 

Obi-Wan covered Anakin’s hand with his own, “Not dead, not dying, not yet at least- although if I have to sit through anymore meetings we might have to revisit that,” Anakin chuckled and Obi-Wan’s smile broadened, “I’m sure your mother will be okay too, Anakin, I really do.”

Anakin nodded, feeling a little better now. They stood up slowly, Anakin wobbled a little, still shaky. He realised that his hand was still planted firmly on Obi-Wan’s chest and brought it back to his side with more force than originally intended, earning a raised eyebrow and a blush he was pretty sure was starting to become a permanent occurrence. Maybe he could stand out in the middle of the Dune Sea and get a sunburn horrible enough to hide it?

~

Obi-Wan tried to hide his apprehension as best he could. It had been ten years since he’d last been on Tatooine; ten years since he had seen the sandy yellow walls of Mos Espa… and even longer since he’d seen the Jungan Wastes. 

He had this little joke with himself, it wasn’t really a joke, but he felt better calling it that- that if he closed his eyes he could see what had been his home for the better part of twenty years. He could imagine the kettle on the stove, and the (very limited) selection of teas next to it, neatly arranged by preference, or if afforded the luxury- colour.

He hated how sandy everything got all the time, and he could imagine his spare boots by the door- always having to tip them out whenever he wore them. He bit his lip.

He remembered, albeit very vaguely- the chest, that sat opposite his favourite chair… his old robes tucked neatly at the bottom, carefully concealing Ahsoka’s padawan beads; the last pack of Qui-Gon’s favourite Takodanian tea; a few holos of everyone at the temple- especially one of him and Quin at Dex’s; then, placed carefully on top- Anakin’s lightsaber.

Two memories seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces; the awed, lopsided smile that brightened Luke’s face when he first ignited the ‘saber- and the outraged roar of  _ haven’t you killed enough Skywalkers, Kenobi?!  _

Yes, those two made quite the pair.

Some nights, when his darkest thoughts finally made it to the surface, he supposed it was right. He had killed Anakin- maybe not directly, but in a way he had, and that had killed Padme and Ahsoka- who were most  _ definitely  _ Skywalkers, they were Anakin’s  _ family.  _

He had killed Shmi too, although at the time he hadn't realised it. He had told Anakin that his nightmares could wait, and so sealed her fate. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t-  _ wouldn’t-  _ make the same mistakes again. He would prove to the Force that he could be better this time, because is that not why he was sent back? To right the wrongs from another life? To make up for his mistakes- his failures?

Anakin was calmer now, and a single, pacifying thought came to him-  _ I will not fail you again.  _ And as if he had heard him- Obi-Wan knew he hadn’t- Anakin looked up from where he sat on the floor, surrounded by spare parts he didn’t even want to  _ know  _ where he got as he tinkered with Artoo, and smiled at him.

Tatooine was a rock in the middle of space. That’s all it was. And yet if Obi-Wan were to ever say what terrified him most in that moment it would be this sand-drowned sun-scorched hell that always found a way of tormenting him, no matter what lifetime. His mouth was already dry and they hadn’t even jumped out of hyperspace yet. 

He hated to think about what he would do when they touched ground- what memories would come bubbling up to flash before his eyes and send spitting burns across his neck. He pushed away the fear that they were too late, that Shmi Skywalker was lying mutilated and bloody in an encampment in the middle of the Dune Sea. That her kind heart would meet such a horrific fate, and that they could do nothing to help her.

He also feared what he would say to her if she were completely fine, how he had abandoned her son and run off to play politics. That was unfair- he had done a great deal more than play politics in his years away from Coruscant. But that didn’t matter, he had still left, and that he feared couldn’t be forgiven.

“I have a bad feeling about this, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said suddenly, Obi-Wan couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him,

“If Qui-Gon had ten credits every time I’d said that phrase he’d be the richest man on Coruscant-” Artoo suddenly let out a wheezing noise, spinning and whizzing about the cockpit, 

“-Have you got a loose wire?!” Obi-Wan scoffed, 

_ [I’ll give you a loose wire, you ginger bastard]  _

“Artoo!” Anakin scolded through peals of laughter, Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes, 

“I may be ginger but at least I don’t have a shoddy paint job,” He sniffed, Anakin gasped, horrified,

“Leave Artoo alone!” Obi-Wan blinked.

“Oh,  _ now  _ you’re offended! He deserved it!”

“Artoo has never done anything wrong his entire life.” Anakin said defiantly, furrowing his brow,

“ _ That-  _ How- The thing is a tiny little bastard with a bad paint job and a  _ screw loose!” _

Anakin’s eyes widened and he let out a gasp even more scandalised than the last, “oh really? Because Quin has shown me  _ plenty  _ of holos of  _ your  _ fashion sense!”

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to gasp,  _ “bastard!” _

Anakin stopped and frowned, looking confused, “...Me or Quin?”

_ “The both of you!” _

_ [If either of you fucking organics would stop flirting you’d notice we’re out of hyper]. _

They both seemed to snap out of whatever rapport they were having and stared at the Force forsaken rock they’d travelled so long to get to. It hung there like a death sentence. 

Anakin quickly flipped a few switches and took the controls, pushing them towards the planet, and it was not long before they were breaking atmo. Obi-Wan felt his mouth dry at the sight of it, vaguely registering the crackled voice telling them to land in Docking Bay 94.

They landed heavily and Obi-Wan's stomach flipped, he shot a withering look at Anakin who just smiled innocently back at him, definitely not saying  _ that’s what you get for insulting my baby.  _

The docking bay supervisor gratefully accepted the extra credits to keep their visits off the books, although she didn’t seem to really care who they were- more with the manufacturing of the ship and the nice heavy clink of the money. She inspected it for a few minutes, barking out orders to the droids in Huttese before giving them a satisfied nod. 

Obi-Wan sucked in a deep breath, ready to face whatever Mos Espa had in store for them.

~

It was all exactly as Anakin remembered it, and yet he felt like a stranger in the place he had once called home. The suns beat down in heavy swathes,and he could feel the heat on his skin like a brand. The same myriad of languages assaulted him from all sides- so similar and yet so different to that on Coruscant. He wondered if there were still those few pirates that would take pity on the kids, trapped and bound here, and tell them stories of other worlds, of the adventures only ever seen in the rare holovids they could sneak past whoever owned them- he had been one of them, desperate and hungry for a life that didn’t exist for people like him.

He didn’t wait for Obi-Wan as they walked through the marketplace, turning west towards Watto’s old junk shop. Anakin could map out the entire city in his head, walk the streets and back alleys from memory, even after so long.

They found Watto exactly where he would have been ten years ago. Sitting at the entrance to his shop, hat covering his eyes and snarling insults at some old damaged droid part Anakin could put together with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back.

Speaking Huttese came back to him as easily as breathing. He hated it. But it got Watto to look up from where he was spitting all over the machine. 

_ “Let me help you with that.”  _ He didn’t wait for a reply as he picked up the part, carefully rearranging the wires into working order,

_ “What?! What you want?!”  _ He sneered, the sand flies around him startled as he caught sight of Anakin’s lightsaber,  _ “Wait- You’re a Jedi!- what- whatever it is I didn’t do it!” _

Anakin looked up from his work, staring into those horrid piss-yellow eyes. _ “I’m looking for Shmi Skywalker.” _

“Ani?” He breathed, Anakin didn’t reply, silently looking over to Obi-Wan; he set the part down and waited until Watto finally recognised him. Going on about how he’d grown and other banthashit he’d gotten himself into.

“And these three kriffing pirates, pah! Dirty cheats… if I ever prove that they-”

“My  _ mother.”  _ He spat, anger rising in him that he could be so  _ careless.  _ Watto floundered for a minute, looking guilty and Anakin’s stomach dropped as Watto told them that he’d sold her-  _ sold her.  _ She could be anywhere on Tatooine- offworld maybe- no, no his mother couldn’t be off-world. He felt her here.

“I remember you too-  _ Jeedai.”  _ Watto commented to Obi-Wan as they entered the workshop. Obi-Wan shook his head,

“I’m surprised, it’s been ten years.”

“Aaahh- Watto never forgets-a face-a,” he tapped his head with a sly smile, reaching down and flicking through a datapad. Apparently his mother was on a moisture farm on the other side of Mos Eisley. Elation rested over Anakin’s heart, she was still here, and moisture farmers were more respectable than anyone else on Tatooine. He prayed to the Gods that she was being treated well, that she was  _ okay.  _

Anakin was glad to be rid of Watto. He hoped that would be the last time he would ever see him again. Obi-Wan rested a hand on his arm as they sat in the cockpit, flying over the dunes towards his mother.

“She’ll be okay, I know it.”  _ You don’t.  _ That voice said again, and Anakin forced it away, because she  _ would  _ be okay. He would find his mother and they would be together again. He could tell her everything about becoming a Jedi, and how they had done everything for him. He could tell her about Obi-Wan in the Senate- and their  _ bond.  _

He hadn’t had time to think about it since they landed, and his chest swelled. They would have time to explore it, figure out what it was and  _ why  _ it was. Anakin turned his attention from the dunes for a moment, glancing at Obi-Wan and the sunburn already beginning to dust his cheeks and nose. The bond was inexplicable, ineffable… incredible.

The Lars family homestead finally came into view, and suddenly he felt Obi-Wan tense. But that might just have been his imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THE REVEAL!:  
> Part I: Where We Come Alive - Ruelle  
> Part II: No Light, No Light - Florence + The Machine  
> PART III: All This And Heaven Too - Florence + The Machine
> 
> I feel like I should put together a playlist for this fic??? but idk im not popular enough for that lmao  
> Tell me what you think!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	16. But With All My Education

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the Force whispering in his ear that everything would be okay. He had waited, and hoped and prayed and it was this, so perfectly simple and yet not that threatened to break him.  
> ~  
> Reko was laying face down in the sand, and had been for the last thirty minutes. Mick was still nestled comfortably in the back seat, snoring like a wild Bantha. Triva was in the back, the boot popped up and rifling around for anything they could use to trade, sell or potentially use as defence weaponry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI!!! been a while, but I'm really happy with this one! I uh, I am way too attached to the Smugglers. Literally. They have a backstory now and are going to be a big part of The Tatooine Arc. I don't know how this happened they were just meant to be plot devices.  
> I also did the playlist thing!!! you can find it [HERE](https://flyboy-and-fight-me.tumblr.com/post/625385120767066112/wwca-playlist)   
> I'm also working on some concept art for the three of them, which i might post, if you're interested ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ALSO I DEDICATE THIS CHAPTER TO MAGS @imtheoutgoingsidekick-baby because I can and ANNIE @stanakin96 because I CAN!!!

Triva hid her face in her hands. Fuck she hated this goddamn planet. Mick was going to get them killed. Or worse. She eyed her drink, wondering if she took a sip she’d get a mouthful of sand, her head still pounded from the tension behind her eyes. Reko slid into the booth, wrapping an arm around her shoulder,

“You okay?” He asked, Triva pursed her lips and braved a large gulp of her drink and making a face. She pointed over to Mick, who seemed to be deep in a game of sabacc with a few other shady individuals on the other side of the seedy little bar. Reko snorted, 

“He’s just happy to be somewhere warm,” he said, 

“But Tatooine? Really?”

“Where else would you want to go?” He flashed her a smirk, 

“True- oh _ shit _ not again.” A commotion rang out, one including Mick holding his hands up in apology as several cards fell out of his sleeve. Reko let out a defeated sigh, getting up from the booth and pulling out his blaster, Triva followed, a smirk on her face,

_ “Tatooine, _ he said.  _ Fun,  _ he said,”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She pulled her vibroblade from its sheath and watched as her idiot mechanic and surrogate little brother dodged a punch, trying (and failing) to calm the poor mercenary or other. She copied Reko’s sigh with a small smile,  _ the pirate’s life for me.  _

“Hey! Trivvy! Come meet-” Mick ducked a swipe, and popped back up with a bright smile, “-Come meet my new friend-  _ WHOA- Ha! Missed!” _

“Whatever he did we can sell him to you for two hundred credits.” Reko addressed the one who seemed to be the lead goon. They were human, tall with shaved black hair and dark eyes. 

“Hey!” Mick chided, “as your best friend-”

“Triva’s my best friend.”

_ “As your best friend.”  _ He fixed Reko with a playful glare. “I am worth  _ at least  _ a thousand.” He sniffed. “Nobody puts up with your banthashit like I do.” 

“You forget I have to deal with  _ your  _ banthashit, Mikrigo.” Reko deadpanned,

Triva pinched the bridge of her nose, “I put up with the both of you so shut your trap and give these guys back their money.” 

The lead goon turned to her, dark eyes piercing despite the low light. They were a hulking figure to begin with- but she’d seen worse in her lifetime, a couple thugs in a bar were lunch meat compared to those Jedi. The goon’s lip curled,

“He’s cheated us before- we want  _ all  _ our money back,”  _ oh I’m quivering in my boots.  _ She thought, not at all impressed by the done-to-death intimidation tactics.

“Well I’m sorry my friends, but you either just take back what you brought- or we leave with it all.”

The thug looked at his pal, chuckling, “I don’t think you know what we’re capable of, little lady.” Triva didn’t reply, but raised one tattooed eyebrow, 

“ _ ‘Little lady’?”  _ Mick asked, mocking confusion, “She’s six feet tall.” Reko moved around the group, grabbing onto Mick’s arm and yanking him out of harm's way with a wave of his blaster.

“Don’t make a mess, I like this bar,” Reko muttered to her with a wicked smirk. Triva rolled his eyes but she was trying to hold back her own little laugh. She matched most human male’s height- not even factoring in her lekku.

“We’ll be outside.” He said, steering the mechanic and his sticky fingers away from the rest of them.

“All alone, little lady,” the thug frowned mockingly, Triva held back the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Sucks to be you then.”

Before the idiot could register what she had said Triva was on the ground, sweeping her feet and knocking their legs out from under them. She took out her spare vibroblade and sent it streaking through the air and hitting the wall above the dreary little band. The terrified  _ twang  _ of instruments sent them into a jaunty little tune she could feel herself bouncing along to.

The second merc came at her and she sidestepped neatly before grabbing onto his belt and connecting her knee to his groin. She rolled her eyes as he recoiled and she leaned back to smash a plate over his head, watching his eyes roll back and he slumped over.

She shook her shoulders, bopping along to the music as the first goon finally recovered from his fall, getting up she didn’t give chance and hit him in the face, hearing his nose break away from his skull with a sickening, yet oddly satisfying,  _ crunch.  _

The turned on the balls of her feet, facing the third and final thug, who stood shaking in the corner of the little booth, she smiled sweetly,

“You ready doll?” Triva asked serenely, enjoying herself far too much. The merc violently shook his head, scrambling away as she slid all of Mick’s ‘winnings’ into her coin purse.  _ Shit, not enough to cover fuel.  _ She sighed, turning on her heel and dropping a few of the credits on the bar for the damage. Still bouncing along to the happy riff of the music.

Mick was grinning ear to ear when she walked out. “We aren’t going to be allowed back here for a while.” She said with a less-than-guilty smile, Mick whooped and even Reko let out a laugh,

“This is the only cantina in Anchorhead- where do we go now?” Reko asked Mick as Triva wiped the blood from her hand before the sand could stick to it.

“Mos Eisley ain’t far-” He winked, “-and I hear it’s got a pretty nice  _ wateringhole.”  _ Reko did laugh at that,

Triva groaned, “this is the last time I’m bringing you to a desert planet.”

“Dune child is as dune child does!” He cheered, sauntering off in the general direction of the Taxi rank. Reko shook his head,

“What does that even  _ mean?”  _

Triva shook her head, “I have no idea; he’s from Alderaan.”

~

Stepping off the ship’s ramp was dizzying. The heat had been bad  _ inside  _ but  _ outside  _ made Obi-Wan feel as though he’d just jumped off the top of the Senate building. His heart beat faster in his chest. The last time he had seen the little domed house it was burnt to a crip, blackened by flames and he could still feel his sinuses seize up from the phantom stench of burning bone.

Anakin was no better next to him, he stared at the farm with single minded focus, through the bond he could feel the  _ fear-anger-trepidation  _ at the thought of his mother. He couldn’t begin to understand what he might be thinking, he was too busy wrapped up in his own thoughts and memories. He placed a placating hand on the young Jedi’s arm, 

They walked forward, and when they were finally in range of the homestead a head popped up from behind the wall. 

“Shmi!  _ Shmi!” _ Beru’s voice sent Obi-Wan reeling, for a moment he couldn’t breathe as his mind plunged him into the ice cold memory of her voice calling for the sandy-blonde haired little child he’d taken to them. 

He couldn’t stop now though, he couldn’t pause and wonder whether it was a good idea at all to come back here- not when Shmi Skywalker appeared not a moment later, eyes wide and shining and  _ running  _ towards her son.

Her laugh filled the gap between them as Anakin met her in the middle, and a lightness filled Obi-Wan’s chest- bright and warm and so Force forsakenly  _ different  _ to the heavy weight that had been weighing him down. Words were so unuseful, there was no way to describe the way Anakin looked as he held onto his mother. 

There was no brokenness, no threat- no  _ fear.  _

Shmi looked like she was about to burst, pride and joy and light filled every move of her face. Obi-Wan looked away, not wanting to intrude on such a personal moment- it was just for them, just for Anakin’s family to see and appreciate. He was an outsider.

His movement caught Shmi’s attention, and she let out a small gasp before her face broke out into another wide smile- one that said  _ you did it, you protected him. You brought him back to me.  _ And he didn’t have the heart not to return it. This was a happy occasion, he would not spoil it with demons.

Shmi slowly let go of her son, although it seemed to be with great difficulty. She stepped towards him and Obi-Wan didn’t know what to do- he was rooted to the spot, unable to move under the unwavering gaze of the woman who seemed so unchanged over the years. He let out a small breath as she pulled him into a hug, she held him fiercely, lovingly in a way only a mother could.

He wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t. His eyes were not rivers there to weep. He wouldn’t cry, so he smiled instead. There was something so incredible about this, and it was such a simple thing. For all they knew this was just them visiting… but it was so much more. It was  _ hope.  _ It was everything he could possibly imagine. 

It was the Force whispering in his ear that everything would be  _ okay.  _ He had waited, and hoped and prayed and it was  _ this,  _ so perfectly simple and yet not that threatened to break him.

She let him go and turned back to her son, holding out her hand for him to take, he did and stepped forward, putting a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder as he came to stand with them. She looked between the two of them and nodded, seemingly satisfied with something he didn’t quite understand. Obi-Wan suddenly wished he had brought a hat- not only to shield his face from the sun but also from the curious eyes of the rest of the Lars family that had slowly come out to see what all the commotion was about.

He swallowed his fear as they made their way over. Beru was smiling, bright and wide at them both- there was no death hanging over them now. Owen was with her, young and happy. Cliegg Lars was still in a wheelchair, but he seemed no less overjoyed to greet them. The Sand People must still have been a problem.

“I’m Beru,” she introduced herself, not shy in the slightest, she beamed at them.

“Owen Lars,” Owen said, moving forward and shaking both their hands, “Shmi has told us so much about you,” Anakin seemed a bit surprised at that, surprised, but pleased- they were so friendly, so much better than Watto.

“Cliegg Lars,” he shook their hands. “Shmi is probably the greatest employee I have ever had, and she tells me your skill is even more impressive than hers!”

Obi-Wan blanched, and for a second was scared he had revealed something, but was glad to see Anakin had a very similar expression. There was a beat of silence when the young Jedi looked over at his mother and she could barely contain her smile, he leaped at her, drawing her into another hug, letting out a disbelieving laugh that both broke and filled Obi-Wan’s heart.

“You- I can’t-” he couldn’t seem to get the words out. Shmi was no longer a slave, she was a free woman. She was an  _ employee,  _ not a slave, not a servant,  _ employee.  _ “That’s amazing, it’s- you’re  _ free.”  _ Anakin said the word so religiously, like it was a word not spoken by those who had not been given it. Like it was sacred.

~

Anakin could hardly believe his senses, had it not been that the Lars family and his mother invited him into the house he would have gladly stayed out there in the heat and the  _ sand  _ if it meant talking to his mother more. He couldn’t believe she was free. His mother was one of the most talented engineers in Mos Espa, and had taught him just about everything he knew. 

Pride swelled within him, he could never thank Obi-Wan enough for this- all thoughts about the dreams were crushed the moment he had laid eyes on her, how healthy and bright she looked. 

Obi-Wan’s face was carefully polite to the Lars’, but with this new and confounding bond he could  _ feel  _ the bone-deep pain coming from him. It was so confusing- he was trying to bury it, he prodded a little further trying to figure out what was plaguing him so badly- but those shields reinforced themselves ten-fold and Obi-Wan avoided looking at him.

They were sitting in the kitchen, Beru had put on a pot of tea and caf and was handing them out with Owen’s help. “When did Watto free you?” Anakin asked, eager to learn about everything that had happened to her over the past ten years.

His mother set down her cup, “I was sold to Cliegg,” she saw him tense and gaze flicker to the man, “but- now hear me- he freed me, I’ve been working on the vaporators here.” She smiled softly as Anakin relaxed ever so. He didn’t like the idea of his mother staying with someone who had kept her as a slave. Anyone who owned slaves were  _ questionable people  _ at least. His mother seemed happy, happier than he had ever seen her.

“I have never had a better employee,” Cliegg Lars spoke up, “had it not been for the Sand People getting braver and braver and attacking the vaporators we would be ready a month and a half early. But it’s too dangerous to go out around there in the mornings.”

“Why are they attacking the vaporators?” Obi-Wan asked, curious, Cliegg shook his head,

“Beats me, they’re territorial beasts, and we have no defence systems to put in place. They’re savage things- barely leave any wiring left to make repairs.”

“I’m sure I can help fix them,” Anakin said nonchalantly, vaporators weren’t much different to a whole bunch of other stuff he could fix- and if it would help his mother he was more than happy to do it.

~

“This is your fault.” Reko huffed, 

_ “My  _ fault-” Triva scoffed “ _ you’re  _ the one who insisted that we could get to Mos Eisley  _ ‘no problem’  _ on a quarter tank!” 

“Are you guys getting a divorce? Do I get two Wookiee Life Days?” Mick snickered as he lay in the back seat, a small cloth draped over his eyes to keep the suns off.

Reko leaned over and batted the mechanic, “I swear if you weren’t her brother I’d dump you here,”

“Not what you said last night.”

Triva made a face, “You have  _ got  _ to stop joking about that, Micky, I’m actually going to believe it one day.” She looked over to Reko, who just had his eyes closed, obviously just as done with Micky’s shit. 

She sighed, “We’re going to have to see what we can find in the back or risk it with the Jawas, and I don’t know about you but I don’t feel like getting picked for parts or  _ sold  _ for parts.”

Reko pursed his lips, “Or we could see if we can make the trek back to ‘Espa- maybe they’ve got some fuel we could barter?”

Mick let out a long, exasperated sigh, “by the time we get back to this rust bucket it’s going to be stripped to its skeleton. Our best bet is to just wait for another speeder to come along. This is the one and only safe way to pass through the Wastes. We’ll be fine.”

Triva considered it for a moment, “I guess that’s the best we can do,” Reko made a disapproving noise, but didn't say anything, which she was glad for. The three of them had left their ship at Anchorhead and the Wastes were crawling with Sand People… she had even heard rumours about Krayt dragons prowling the area deep into the night. Tatooine was a hunk of rock to begin with but this… it was like every bad thing was laying in wait, like a predator waiting to strike.

It was three standard hours before another vehicle passed by. Reko was laying face down in the sand, and had been for the last thirty minutes. Mick was still nestled comfortably in the back seat, snoring like a wild Bantha. Triva was in the back, the boot popped up and rifling around for anything they could use to trade, sell or potentially use as defence weaponry- Reko probably knew how to make a small cannon out of some of this shit anyway. 

She was the first one to see it, as she was with most things because her best friend and baby brother shared one singular brain cell that bounced between them like a pinball. She briefly thought back to that Senator, Obi-Wan- maybe they’d be able to get back to a decent place and find their ship, she was sure even the mysterious Stewjon was better than this dump.

She turned around, surveying the landscape. She gasped “Jawa Crawler, in coming- it looks modified!”

“Everything’s modified here,” Reko said, face slightly shmushed from being pressed against the sand.

“No you idiot- like  _ stolen  _ modified- Micky check it out,” Triva closed the boot of the speeder and Mick’s head popped up from behind the seat, he squinted into the distance, trying to see beyond the distortion of the heat rolling off the ground.

“Yep looks like it, Jawas wouldn’t be caught  _ dead  _ using that shit.” What  _ that shit  _ meant was a mystery to Triva and she was pretty sure it always would be- Micky had a habit of talking in a way only  _ he  _ could understand. It could be endearing at times, in life-threatening situations… not so much.

~

The sand was hot under his cheek and Mick was being far too quiet for him to relax. The mechanic was  _ never  _ quiet. Not even when he was facing imminent doom, the idiot still found a way to jabber about  _ something.  _ On several occasions he’d taken to critiquing the decor of some backwater cantina they’d found themselves owing money to, just to get a rise out of their captors.

Yeah,  _ that  _ hadn’t ended well.

Reko had met Triva and Mick on Corellia while running from the very limited law enforcement in the deep city. He was twenty then, and ran away from home to… well he didn’t really know. He’d been studying at the University of Coruscant Medical Institution and everyone was so  _ proud  _ of him. 

He was going to go off and become a doctor and stay on Coruscant for the rest of his life taking care of fat, pompous political assholes who didn’t give a shit how good they had it.

Reko didn’t want it, he didn’t want to go and become a doctor and watch as the people who really needed help were left to die by those who didn’t care for anything but credits.

He’d been on the road for six months when he’d landed on Corellia; tired, hungry, running from the gang who’s ship he’d stowed away on. He had ended up at a halfway house not far out of the cityscape- a nice little place for people who didn’t want trouble and didn’t ask questions.

That was until Triva had ended up on the dining room table with a nasty blaster wound to the side and Mick screaming at someone to  _ do something.  _ He hadn’t thought really; the house usually refused people who couldn’t ‘keep to themselves’- that included the sick and dying. But Reko had grabbed anything he could to help clean the wound. They’d offered him a spot on their crew when he assured them she would make a full recovery.

They were so young back then, Triva had been nineteen and Mick had been  _ eighteen.  _ They were  _ children.  _

It got to him sometimes, how much they had grown up over the past nine years. Triva had vowed to never let herself get hurt again- she was dedicated, the best fighter of all of them, their tank. He knew that day had affected her deeper than her wound. He couldn’t blame her- Mick was distraught at something happening to her, fever bright eyes and cheeks stained with tears, shaking with worry. So unlike himself. 

Mick was enigmatic, he was ditzy and snarky and cared so much for them, intelligent and resourceful. He loved Triva and Mick. Reko knew none of them were afraid to say it, they were his family. 

It was never always like that, he was fiercely protective of Triva, and they had butted heads in the beginning… which eventually turned into what Triva called ‘bickering like an old married couple’. He couldn’t help it- if Mick left his socks laying about the ship  _ one more time- _

“You dead yet?” Mick was out of the speeder and nudging him with his foot, Reko rolled his eyes,

“Two hearts means-”

“We’d have to stab you twice as hard. I know.” Mick finished, Reko didn’t have to look up to see the smile. 

Mick had been adopted by Triva when he was ten and hiding in a crate of rations on Socorro. He refused to talk about who he was before that, Reko only knew he was born on Alderaan thanks to Triva. He didn’t talk about his past, and likely never would.

She’d taken him home and her mother had been  _ appalled  _ at the state of him- taken him in and taken care of him right up until they left the backwater planet to find something better and ended up in a halfway house on Corellia.

“The ‘Crawler is close, we can walk up and ask for a ride,” Mick informed him, 

“And if they shoot on sight?” Reko sighed, lifting himself off the ground and dusting off his shirt- it was  _ way  _ too hot for a jacket.

“Then we don’t have to deal with the heat,” he snarked right back, sticking his tongue out and walking ahead. 

The ‘Crawler was  _ definitely  _ not Jawa-operated, the mods were too clumsy- even he could see that, Mick was probably crawling in his skin, itching to berate whoever tried to fit a CV-87fh onto a CV-47jh or something- he didn’t know,  _ I’m a medic, sue me.  _ He thought. They didn’t have to walk far, and thank fuck because by the time they had gotten close enough to call up to whoever was driving the thing Mick was already starting to complain his feet hurt.

Reko still wasn’t sure if he was sober or not.

The ‘Crawler stopped, and Reko could faintly hear thumping coming from the inside, before the screech of metal on metal and a head popped over the side. He squinted against the sun, trying to make a face out of the silhouette- Human, most likely.

“What do you want?” Their voice was deep- no- it was rough, the sort of rough that came with years of deathsticks and alcohol.

“We need a ride!” Mick called back, “our speeder is outta gas and we need to get to Mos Eisley,”

The chuckle that came from the human up there sent a shiver down Reko’s spine. It was perfectly friendly, but there was something… something off about it… “Looks like you need a friendly helping hand eh?” Before any of them could answer they disappeared from the edge and thumped back down into the ‘Crawler, obviously conversing with whoever they were travelling with. 

The shadow of the vehicle sheltered them from the overbearing sun, but still Reko felt himself becoming antsy, there was something off about their luck here. He didn’t like it. After a moment the silhouette reappeared “You’re in luck- the three guys that were meant to join us never showed”

Reko actually snorted, looking over to Triva who’s face had turned a slightly darker green than normal, Mick was looking away, barely containing his laugh. Reko thought with mild amusement back to those poor sods cheated out of their money and their job by the same three idiots that once tried to see if they could make blue-milk waffles on the engine grill.

“We’ll be right up!” Triva said, biting her lip and looking not at all guilty. 

They went up one by one, and eventually sat in the cramped little cockpit-like space at the front of the ‘Crawler, Reko was pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Mick, who kept trying to reach out and mess with the wiring sticking out of one of the consoles, not looking at him. This fucking thing was meant for Jawas. Not humanoids. 

They finally got a better look at who they were dealing with. Three humans, very obviously rough enough to know what the galaxy was like. The one that had spoken to them held out a hand to each, he had heavy, mis-matched armour on, with tied back greying-brown hair.

“Var,” he introduced himself, before pointing to the others, “and that's Ordo and Tek.” The two didn’t speak, but looked over at them and nodded. Triva shifted beside him, she knew something was off too, could clearly sense that this was not just some friendly handout.

“You look like you’ll do well enough,” Var’s eyes were on Triva, and Reko moved forward the same time Mick did, 

“For  _ what?”  _ Mick sneered, Var tore his eyes away from the Twi’lek and gave a placating smile,

“Since our three dropped out-” he said, “you’ll have to take their places. It’s the least you could do for us helping trek you all the way to Mos Eisley. No?”

“What do you want us to do?”

“We have a job,” one of the others said, Ordo- he thinks, “easy one,”

“Easy” Tek echoed with a small, menacing little smile,

“It’s a job from the farmers- something is bothering them you see” Var smiled, “Sand People destroying their ‘quipment. It won’t take long.”

The three of them were silent. Mick wasn’t looking at either of them so he turned his head to Triva, she had pursed lips, but reluctantly nodded. They could do this, and then duck out of there as fast as possible. Get a speeder and fuel and get back to Anchorhead.

“That’s wonderful.” Var said, with a glint in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally learned how to add links in here so you're gonna see a lot of them lmao, anyway here is my [Tumblr](https://flyboy-and-fight-me.tumblr.com/) if you wanna yell at me!!!!!!!!  
> I want to thank all of you for all your kudos and comments and hits, this dumb little fic has become one of my most popular and i am sor happy that you're all enjoying it!!!!
> 
> I really hope you guys are okay with the Smugglers coming back, I don't want them to dominate the story so much that you stop enjoying it but they're going to have a big part in the Tatooine Arc. I hope that's okay!!!


	17. And The Words Are All Escaping Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again his mind wandered, floating over to Anakin, who was so like the dawn. The dawn that would break the night that had settled over the galaxy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is unedited filth but it's 3am and I have kept you guys waiting long enough- I'll definitely come back and tweak and re-edit later (because I did SOME of it, be proud of me i haven't slept in three days)  
> I hope all of you at least enjoy the premise of it- and some wink wink new insight into old Obi-Wan's plans wink wink
> 
> I am giving a mini baby spoiler in the end notes- it wont be too huge, just a teaser- but I am so excited to write it   
> I have been playing a lot of SWTOR and in about a month i've gotten to level 72 (max is 75) so please y'all pray for my brain because by the time school starts in this bitch of a country my brain is going to be frazzled
> 
> also You Don't Need To Know This But It's Important To Me That You Do: Theron Shan and Lana Beniko are the epitome of mlm/wlw solidarity and I would gladly give my life for them.

It was late. And Obi-Wan found he couldn’t sleep. His mind was still whirring. Cliegg had very kindly given them spare rooms to sleep in, and it was nothing about the comfort of the place that would have made it difficult for any normal person to be able to relax.

But Obi-Wan wasn’t normal, now was he? 

His mind kept wandering, running off into the Dune Sea and the never ending labyrinth of rocks in the Wastes. He eventually gave in, sitting up and pulling on his jacket, however warm it was in the daytime nothing could compare to the freezing temperatures of the night.

He padded out of his room, careful not to make a sound as to wake anyone else and desperately tried to remember his way to the kitchen. There was something so viscerally haunting about being here- he knew things were different- he had known since the moment he’d woken up- but everything that had changed had been because of  _ him. He  _ had chosen to set things on a different path… it was always in his control. But this? This was not in his control- Shmi and Cliegg had been married before- but now… now they weren’t.

Obi-Wan sighed, finally reaching the kitchen and bypassing the lightswitch in favour of the tea kettle sitting right where it had been left. He was no god, the Force worked in mysterious ways and there was nothing he could do about it. He bit his lip- breathing in and letting all of his worry go into the Force- something he hadn’t done in a while.

He let the Force settle over him, guiding him as he made the methodical movements in preparing his tea. It was calm, allowing him this rare moment of peace in the dark light of the Tatooinian sky, under this roof that he had known for so many years. Again his mind wandered, floating over to Anakin, who was so like the dawn. The dawn that would break the night that had settled over the galaxy. 

“I can hear you thinking.” A voice in the darkness said. Obi-Wan, in all his dignity, sent everything clattering onto the counter with an undignified yelp. He clapped a hand over his mouth, watching with wide eyes as Shmi Skywalker moved over and turned on a low-light lamp on the table. She was smirking, so like her son’s, very pleased with scaring him shitless.

“Sorry!” He whispered, Shmi just shook her head with a small smile, 

“Don’t worry. Cliegg’s meds knock him out, Owen and Beru are on the other side of the house and Ani sleeps like the dead anyway.”

Obi-Wan relaxed, going back to making his tea, “I’m sorry to be rude-”

“It’s alright, Obi-Wan, you don’t have to be formal with me.” Shmi said, he could hear the warmth in her voice. It made him feel sick. He had promised to keep Anakin safe, and he had failed,  _ again. _

“I have a confession to make,” he blurted, suddenly and quietly, moving to sit across from her at the table. He cupped the mug, trying to warm his hands against the cold he wasn’t sure was just coming from the night anymore. “After I took Anakin to the Temple…” Shmi’s expression was still kind, if not a bit curious, “... I left.”

It didn’t feel like a weight had been lifted, not from the way that kind look flickered into surprise, then worry, then a carefully guarded expression Obi-Wan didn’t know what to make of. She didn’t say anything, so Obi-Wan continued:

“I promised to keep him safe, and I am so sorry that I didn’t keep it- I’ve been gone for a long time and I… I’m a Senator, before that I had things that I needed to do and I… I’m  _ sorry.”  _ He turned away from her, not wanting to see the disappointment and disapproval in her eyes. He knew he had failed to protect Anakin from Palpatine a second time, he was selfish enough to not want to bear the consequences.

“What did you do, in the time you were gone?” Shmi’s voice was no different, and that felt worse than disappointment. He swallowed,

“I cannot.. I cannot say much without speaking treason against the Republic. But I have made many enemies in my lifetime-”  _ lifetimes  _ he mentally corrected, “-and I have been trying my best to right the wrongs that I did. I know I have not been by Anakin’s side since he was a boy but… I’m… I’m trying…” he faltered, “I’m planning a future where he will always be safe.”

She studied him for a long minute- to him it felt like hours-  _ lifetimes  _ if he was feeling comedic. He didn’t know how to explain it to her, to the woman that had put all her trust in some dumb seventeen year old padawan with more weight on his shoulders than three gundarks and a bantha and told him to take care of the boy that would bring peace or chaos to the galaxy. 

For a moment he wondered if she would ever smile at him the way she had when they arrived- with all that  _ hope.  _ In the low he couldn’t make out her exact expression, and he didn’t know if he still wanted to.

He didn’t know what else to say, Shmi reached over and put a hand on his arm, “you care about him, don’t you?” Obi-Wan nodded, the woman smiled, “then that is all I could ever ask for, my son is in good hands, and I have no doubt that he cares for you.”

“I need your help with something.” Obi-Wan said, feeling brave, then chuckled, “I may need your help for a lot of things-” he took a sip of his lukewarm tea, “-if you’re up for some treason.”

Shmi cocked an eyebrow with the trade-mark Skywalker smirk _.  _ “What’ve you got in mind?”

~

The Vaporators were completely  _ eviscerated.  _ There was nothing left. Anakin surveyed the damage, walking around it with wide eyes. It had been completely bowled over, the sensor had been snapped into several pieces and the water pump had been slashed, caving into itself and he watched as the water everyone on Tatooine so desperately protected dripped onto the searing sand.

“This wasn’t… It wasn’t sand people…” He muttered, Owen’s eyes widened,

“Then what was it?” He asked,

Anakin licked his chapped lips, “Krayt Dragon- probably not even full maturity.” Owen’s mouth opened and closed, 

“But they never come this far into the farmland- they- there would be  _ tracks!” _

“Sand can move.” Anakin said bluntly. He wasn’t sure he liked Owen- he eyed them with such distrust last night, he got the sense that the farmer didn’t trust  _ Jedi-types.  _ Asshole.

“See the angle of the laceration? It shows the extension of the claw- too small to be an adult, probably only just reaching maturity.”

“You can’t know that just from the angle of the cut- it was clearly done by those savages!” Anakin clenched his jaw at the pathetic excuse. It was as insulting as it was sad that Owen’s father had passed on those ideas.

“Sand People are indigenous. They only attack when they believe the land belongs to them.” Qui-Gon had prattled on and on and  _ on  _ about the history of just about every planet they went to- that included his own Tatooine. While annoying at times, he actually kind of enjoyed learning about the cultures, Tatooine had been a shell-shock for him. He always believed the Sand People were primitive, incapable of communication. But Qui-Gon had taught him Basic Sign Language, and said he could use it to communicate with them.

“That’s bullshit. They’re mindless animals.”  _ You’re a mindless animal.  _ Anakin thought bitterly.

“The destruction is more than any normal Sand Person could ever make, even a group of them couldn’t pull this thing to shreds without getting electrocuted.” Owen knew he was right. Anakin could feel it. It was satisfying, watching the man struggle to come up with an answer. The mix of accumulated water and frayed wiring would have been a deadly mix for anything without a hard exterior. 

“Krayt Dragon… are you sure?” 

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“We need to speak to the rest of the farmers, if you have any chance of standing against this thing- why are you looking at me like that?” Anakin’s brow knit, Owen had gone completely pale, he looked about ready to throw up.

“The farmers already had a meeting- they hired mercenaries to… to take on the Sand People- they’re attacking the camp tonight.”

Anakin shut his eyes, letting out a long sigh, “you idiots never thought to take a second look at the damage did you?” Owen shook his head,

“But the Sand People have been attacking-”

_ “Reclaiming.” _ Anakin corrected, with righteous fury blazing in his eyes. He had seen time and time again how people had been treated- blamed for things they didn’t do just because they weren’t humanoid, human slavers who only took Twi’lek women because of their ‘desirability’. He had seen over and over again the oppression of people because they weren’t human. He had been fed the lies as a child. He scoffed. It had taken Qui-Gon sitting him down and teaching him  _ actual, unfiltered  _ history for him to understand the horrors others would commit. The oppression of other species just for who they were.

“They are not the colonisers here, Owen. We need to get back to the farm. I need Cliegg to gather everyone in a five-klick radius.”

He didn’t look back as he strode over to the speeder, hopping in the driver’s seat and flipping on the engine. Owen only barely made it by the time he had pulled off. They sped over the Dunes, kicking up a cloud of sand as the wind whipped around them. Anakin’s hand flaxed on the controls, trying his best to get them back to the farmstead as fast as possible. 

He knew Obi-Wan and his mother would be there, they could help round up the farmers and find out when these mercenaries were arriving and where. If they went into the Wastes looking for a Sand People settlement and found a Krayt Dragon. They’d be dead within the minute.

He tried to reach out to Obi-Wan through this new bond- a warning, he had to know what was about to happen- if the Krayt Dragon decided that it had had enough- if it made out onto farmland-  _ no.  _ He couldn’t think like that, nobody had seen one on colonised land in  _ years, decades  _ even, there was no discernible reason for it to do so now.  _ Unless those mercenaries engage first, think later.  _ He pressed harder on the gas, propelling them forward with renewed fervor. 

Kriff, why did he sound like Windu?

~

Obi-Wan had had about four cups of caf and still couldn’t keep up with Beru as they walked about Mos Eisley. They needed several things for the farmstead and she had very cheerily told him that if a city boy like him couldn’t help out she’d throw him to the Sarlacc. Obi-Wan was not going to test that.

He had never gotten to know Beru, but now that he was she was very much like Shmi- intelligent, kind, witty, and even more stubborn than a bantha. that was certainly no problem, his conspirations with Anakin’s mother had led to a full night of explanations and I-really-hope-you-don’t-think-I’m-a-criminal talks. To be completely and totally honest Obi-Wan was still trying to figure that one out himself.

It had been a long time coming, carefully cultivated allies and calculated decisions- something he had been planning from the very beginning of his… well his life, really. There was no telling what would have happened had he let events play out as they had done already, and the Force itself was certainly trying to throw him a few wild cards along the way too.

“Shmi told me what you’re planning.” Beru said suddenly, picking up a little trinket from the stall they were at, Obi-Wan felt his blood run cold, but she just shot him a cheeky smile,

“I won’t tell anyone- there’s no one  _ to  _ tell on this rock.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, treading carefully, “why do I get the feeling you’re trying to tell me something?”

“I guess they do teach you something at those hoidy toidy Coruscanti schools.” Obi-Wan gave her an unimpressed look, but she continued, “I want off this planet. I’ve never been anywhere else and you… you magically appear, holding opportunity in your hands. No wonder Shmi calls you the Angel.”

“The- what?”

“Angel.”

“Yes I’m familiar with the word.” He said, “I’m asking  _ why?” _

Beru let out a wistful little sigh that told Obi-Wan he was not going to get this information any easier than interrogating Maul. Monologuing this and monologuing that, always skirting around the truth. This would be no different- less violent (he hoped)- but no different.

He wasn’t truly against it, Beru might be dramatic but that’s what made life interesting. She reminded him of Anakin in some ways, the flair is most certainly something they have in common.

“Shmi still believes in the Angels- the ones out in wild space that may or may not exist depending on which drunk you talk to,” she continued to peruse around the little trinket stall, casually talking to him over her shoulder while Obi-Wan followed. “She prays to them almost every night- told me all about the day before you came to Tatooine- the first time, I mean. Ani had had a dream, about an angel falling-”

“Falling?” Obi-Wan stopped in the middle of the street. Suddenly very dizzy.

“Yes,” Beru replied, turning back to him with a concerned look, “falling. She prayed for an Angel that night, and the next day you turned up.”

“Did Anakin ever talk about the dream?” Obi-Wan asked, Beru shook her head,

“Not that I know of, but you can ask Shmi- are you sure you’re okay? You’ve gone deathly pale,” she pressed a palm to his forehead with a frown- before promptly taking his arm and steering him in the direction of the speeder taxi. 

Obi-Wan’s lungs had somehow stopped functioning, there was nothing else that could have- that might have-  _ no.  _ It was impossible- there was no way Anakin could have  _ seen  _ him fall- he wasn’t falling  _ through  _ anything it was just- just a  _ feeling.  _ The feeling a person got when they died- there was no rhyme or reason to it- it didn’t make  _ sense.  _

Suddenly, on top of whatever illness this revelation had stricken him with- another feeling washed over him, one of  _ fear-terror-anger-deargodspleasehelp.  _ The force of it nearly knocked him over. Beru only just held onto his arm before he went down. She made a small noise and Obi-Wan mumbled an apology, she waived him off,

“We’ll get you back to the farm, see what we can do, yeah?” Obi-Wan nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to will the headache away.  _ Force Anakin,  _ he thought, trying to quell the onslaught of emotion that threatened to unravel him,  _ please be okay. _

They arrived several minutes too late. Shmi and Cleigg were by the farmstead, Owen and Anakin speaking rapidly to them. Obi-Wan could still feel the emotions emanating off of the young Jedi, rapid and unyielding- trying to- trying to figure something out, his frustration growing with every passing minute. They had lessened as the speeder ride had gone on, slowly turning from that crescendo of noise and feeling to a steady, foreboding drumbeat in the back of his head.

“Anakin what’s going on?” He asked as they finally reached the group, Shmi’s mouth was drawn in a thin line, her arms crossed over herself, Cliegg was red in the face- and not just from the sun that still beat down on the back of his neck. Owen was off to the side, slowly side-stepping towards Beru, who seemed more intent on the current conversation and not on her boyfriend.

“The vaporators weren’t attacked by Sand People.” Anakin spat, shooting a scowl over to Cliegg, who glared back with equal heat. “It was a young Krayt Dragon- you’ve sent those people to their deaths!” 

“Hold on a minute-” Obi-Wan placed a placating hand on Anakin’s shoulder as he leaned towards Cliegg- what he meant to do was beyond Obi-Wan, but the fire in his eyes told him it was nothing good. “What are you talking about? Anakin- look at me,” the young man turned, and Obi-Wan reached out through their bond, slowly breaking the surface of it with ripples of calm. The response was immediate- the fire behind Anakin’s eyes did not go out- not by a long shot, but his expression opened, became softer from the blazing emotion that had myrred him a moment before. “Explain to me what you know.” 

When Anakin had finished Obi-Wan felt his blood run cold, he pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to Cliegg, who struck him with an indignant look,

“You tracked these  _ Sand People?”  _ Obi-Wan asked, Cliegg huffed out a sigh,

“There were scuffles coming from the rocks by the Wastes, that’s where  _ they  _ are.” The way he spoke the word with such disdain made him prickle. The Sand People may have been primitive in the coloniser’s eyes but that did not make them any less sentient. 

“These beasts have grown braver and braver by the month- it was only a matter of time before they attacked our lands- we had to do something.”

“What you’re  _ doing  _ is sending people up against an enemy they aren’t prepared for.” Obi-Wan snapped- he knew it wasn’t right to become as worked up as Anakin in this, it would only add more fuel to the fire that was currently burning a hole in the ground in front of them.

“Where in the Wastes did you send them?” Anakin growled at Owen- it was the first time anyone had acknowledged the other man since they’d arrived- and he didn’t look happy about it.

“North- near the canyon.” He said. Anakin didn’t need any more prompting as he set off for the speeder. Shmi watched with wide eyes as he walked away, 

“Ani! You can’t go out there alone! It’s too dangerous!” She called after him, Anakin didn’t turn back, his focus solely on cleaning up the mess that Cliegg and the others had made.

“I’ll go with him- we’ll intercept the mercenaries.” Obi-Wan jumped in before she could shout another protest- Shmi struck him with that  _ look.  _ The look that said  _ be careful, or else.  _ Obi-Wan had no doubt for Anakin’s capabilities with a lightsaber- he was more concerned with the fact that his annoyance for the blatant ignorance and bigotry the farmers of the land showed towards others that got to him- in all honesty he wasn’t sure. Maybe he could talk to him, talk him down from whatever tidal wave was mounting in his mind.

Then again- when would Anakin ever listen to one of his lectures?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I talk one hell of a lot so i'm just gonna roll with that- what did you think of Shmi and Obi-Wan's chat? What they could be possibly tlaking about wink wink  
> reminder: have not slept for three days  
> I'm also a little worried you don't like the way ive portrayed Anakin in this chapter- especially with the Sand People and that it's not too OOC- but that's what I wanted from Qui-Gon training him- he has different influences and has grown up in a pretty different belief system too (because Qui-Gon would 100% go on about ancient myths and history of different worlds at four in the morning while high on space weed)
> 
> SPOILER-ISH:  
> ****  
> I plan on letting Mick and Anakin get drunk off their skunks together and lement about their love lives.


	18. And Coming Back All Damaged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Canyon rocks were like glowing orange pillars, the light hitting them in such a way that would have been so beautiful had Obi-Wan had more time to appreciate it. The singing stones were whistling in the wind. To Obi-Wan it sounded like a death knell. The tracks were fresh- not yet covered over by another layer of sand and the two of them set off at a run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> left you guys for a while, results day got here and I passed, which is surprising because I'm dumb. School is coming back soon, I just hope you guys'll stick around for the end of this fic
> 
> EDIT: damn some of you guys really aren’t liking this story anymore. Hopefully it will be up to standard by next chapter and if it isn’t then I’ll reevaluate whether or not to continue this fic at all.
> 
> EDIT 2: i’ve come to the decision that next chapter will be the final chapter the smugglers appear in. It will wrap their role in part III very quickly and not how I originally wanted for the story as a whole. You didn’t like my characters, that’s been made very clear to me. I liked them, i wasn’t trying to do anything epic or bring anything mind blowing to the SW universe, I just liked them, and I care about my OCs, I thought they were pretty cool. But apparently they shouldn’t have a place in my writing or this fic it seems. This is not how I wanted this section of Part III to go, but it’s what you guys want so I’ll do it, and I promise I won’t put any more of my own characters in a fic again.

Var gave Mick the creeps. His eyes shone a little  _ too  _ bright when he looked at Triva. He knew what the market was for twi’lek women- the three of them had spent enough time on Nar Shaddaa to find out. He shivered despite the heat.

Reko was next to him, eyes trained on the horizon as their crawler dragged them across the scorching earth towards their destination. Sand People, Var had told them- simple job, easy money… Mick wasn’t sure they were being as transparent with their motives as they would have led them to believe. They had had plenty of run-ins with less than reputable people before, it was a common thing for a smuggler of course.

Reko and him had run into some trouble on Marvus Prime once- alright  _ he  _ had run into trouble on Marvus Prime, Reko had come to his daring rescue and then yelled at him for ten minutes.

He didn’t really want to think about Reko while they were packed in like sardines, Mick caught between his sister’s best friend and the wall. He had to remind himself of that little fact every few months:  _ sister’s best friend.  _ He sighed,  _ woe is me and all that shit. Boohoo take a nap- as Trivvy would say.  _

That was the thing, he’d cultivated such an image for himself- such a mask for him to hide behind whenever the outside world saw him that he sometimes had to remind himself to be human. Triva and Reko meant the world to him. They were  _ everything.  _ They had come so close so many times and-  _ no,  _ no he wasn’t going to think about it like that.

They were survivors, they had each other and they had  _ hope.  _ His mother had always told him to never give up, to have hope and hold it so possessively to his heart that it would not escape him in times of trouble.

His mind thankfully drifted away from that of his friendly little predicament that-may-or-may-not-have-been-going-on-since-he-was-eighteen. They moved onto Obi-Wan, the Senator, so esteemed and charming and yet… something. He didn’t know what to call it- but  _ oh no _ he certainly didn’t like the smile that played on Ordo’s lips as he brought the crawler to a halt.

Var stood (or tried to- the man had to bend almost in two) and clapped his hands together, “we walk from here.” 

The three of them exchanged a look. Mick bent down and peered out the window, taking in the sand and rock and sand and rock and- there was lots of sand and rock. No physical markers telling them anything about where they were. But to be honest he wasn’t really expecting a Sand Person to be standing out in the dunes spinning a glittery sign saying  _ Sand People Settlement: This Way!  _ No, life was never that easy.

He blinked against the sudden barrage of light- having become somewhat used to the shaded tint to the windows of the ‘Crawler. He could already feel the sweat begin to pool at the base of his spine and the heat of the sand searing through his boots, burning his feet. As much as he loved dust balls like this he did truly miss that of fresh running water, as every man should.

Ordo, Var, and Tek jumped out of the Crawler after them, Ordo- by far the largest of all of them, was carrying a very menacing assault rifle, a little overkill for a small campsite of Sand People. Mick didn’t know how he felt about that- no, no, he knew exactly how he felt about that- downright uneasy. This shit didn’t add up, there was no way any of this was really what it seemed. Reko would say he was just being paranoid, but from the look on the Zabrak’s face that might not be the case this time.

For a moment he regretted swindling those poor chumps in the bar.

“How far do we walk?” Triva asked, keeping her hand on the vibroblade concealed in her pant pocket. 

“Not far- the locals showed us where the tracks went, and we scouted it a few days ago.” Tek said, he was short and stocky and had more blasters visible than any human should have possibly been able to carry. “The settlements stretch across the canyons, but they aren’t ver’ big.” 

Mick swallowed, taking a deep breath of the hot dry air and praying to the Gods that they made it out okay. He stayed close to Triva as they walked, treading across the rocks that sliced through the dunes. He wondered noncommittally, how many thousands of years it had taken for them to form. For a place like this to become so barren. 

It was not long before they reached the camp, thankfully, the winding sandy path through the canyon had been cooler in the shade of the rocks. It was obvious when they peeked over their vantage point that something wasn’t right.

The uneasy and mistrustful atmosphere shifted between the group as they stared at the torn wreckage of what once might have been a corpse, but didn’t look anything like what it should have. The skull was caved in and the blood ran stark crimson against the golden sand. Its mouth was hanging open, although it didn’t look like the jaw was even connected at this point.

Mick wanted to throw up and turned away from the scene.

He shouldn’t have.

There were so many. Bodies littered the camp. Piled on top of each other as though they had been swept away with a broom. Tents were scattered, torn and buried in layers of sand and blood and guts that oozed out of the carcasses around them.

The rocks were silent and the sun finally hid behind them, like it was afraid to witness what would happen next.

“What could have-” Reko began, kneeling down next to one of the bodies, he examined the lacerations- so clean against the flesh of the Sand People, angry red blood still hot and pouring from the wound. 

“It looks like something did our job for us.” Var said casually, as if the gory sight of this didn’t mean squat. His back was to the trio. But Mick could  _ feel  _ the menacing smile on his weathered face. His skin crawled and his hand went to the blaster at his hip instinctively. 

“Then we should leave- whatever killed them might come back for us.” Triva scowled, her voice was calm, but he could see the panic in her eyes- the others out-gunned them. The cannon Ordo rifle would leave them nothing but burnt track marks in the sand alone. 

Var turned to face them, smile crooked and  _ wrong. “We-”  _ he motioned casually to his comrades, “-will be leaving… and you will of course,” his gaze shifted to Reko, “a part of you will, I guess. Zabrak horns are a delicacy on some planets you know?”

Mick growled low in his throat. “We didn’t ask to be here,” Var smiled condescendingly,

“No, but fate dropped you in our laps all the same.” The smile vanished, and before he could remember to breathe Triva was pulling them behind some rocks at the opposite end of the camp. It was rough against his back- grounding, but the acrid stench of burning bone would stay with him for a while.

He looked at his sister and his friend. Then shut his eyes, praying.

~

Anakin was most definitely not a good pilot. Whoever decided that simple fact needed to rethink every life decision they’d ever made. Anakin was reckless and going to get them killed before they set one foot in the canyon. No matter how much Obi-Wan told him to take it easy it just seemed to spur him on  _ more.  _

“Something’s wrong.” Anakin said suddenly, flooring the acceleration and whipping stinging sand particles into their faces. Obi-Wan was about to ask him what he meant when it hit him too. Something just between his ribs- maybe just something filtered from Anakin’s side of the bond. It wasn’t good.

The suns disappeared behind the rocks and light was fading fast, bringing with it the cool breeze that threatened freezing temperatures the longer they took. Nights on Tatooine were dangerous, and something, something was weighing on Obi-Wan’s heart, filtered through their bond that fed his anxiety. Something familiar was there too. He couldn’t place it.

The Canyon rocks were like glowing orange pillars, the light hitting them in such a way that would have been so beautiful had Obi-Wan had more time to appreciate it. The singing stones were whistling in the wind. To Obi-Wan it sounded like a death knell. The tracks were fresh- not yet covered over by another layer of sand and the two of them set off at a run.

“Anakin- they might not have-”   
“Obi-Wan something is  _ wrong!”  _ The man spun around on him so violently Obi-Wan nearly went crashing into him. His eyes blazed with a fury he had never seen in the padawan before, like if he breathed in too deeply he’d inhale smoke. Anakin looked dangerous- deadly. “I need you to  _ trust me.”  _ There was no room for argument in his voice, and even if there had been Obi-Wan would have done it.

Anakin didn’t wait for the Senator to answer and instead took off at a sprint. Then they heard the blaster fire. The bright streaks of green and blue bounced off the canyon walls, illuminating the decimated camp in a dazzling array of light. Three men stood at one side and then- 

_ “Shit!”  _ Obi-Wan yelled to them over the whistling sounds- pulling out his own blaster the same time Anakin unsheathed his saber, ducking behind the rocks where their old allies hid. Several emotions flickered over their faces at once, confusion, shock, all of them. 

“How the fuck-” 

“No time to explain!” Mick cut Anakin off, “Trivvy you take the little one, Reko,  _ Senator-”  _ he emphasised the word with a little disbelieving huff- “you take big one in the middle- lazer boy over here is with me and Var.”

Obi-Wan thought Anakin would say something- a rebuttal, but he didn’t, just glared at the nickname and followed Mick out as he lay down cover fire for the Jedi. He deflected the blaster fire as easy as breathing, Obi-Wan pulled out his own blaster and nodded to Reko, ducking out from behind the rock and following the path Anakin was paving for them.

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, and there was this unspoken  _ something.  _ It was- it was familiar, Anakin covered them, deflecting the shots and leaving dark streaks across the rocks around them. It was as though he felt Anakin’s movements before they happened- He reached for the bond- for some semblance of grounding that kept them together as he raised his blaster to fire several shots at the mercenaries. The largest one was holding a rifle, larger than any sort he had ever seen. The shortest came at him, brandishing a blaster and vibroknife.

He didn’t even think when Anakin’s lightsaber came hurtling towards him, and he plucked it from the air like a ripened fruit. The weight of the saber felt good in his hands, and with one fell swoop sliced across the shortest one’s chest before knocking him to the ground with the pommel, he threw the saber back to Anakin in the chaos, who had been joined by Reko and his blaster. Triva flanked Obi-Wan, going after the largest in the middle. In the corner of his eye Obi-Wan could see Mick and who he assumed to be the leader circling each other. Mick was scared, he could feel it. They eventually went at each other, blade on blade then blaster on blaster- attacking and slashing and going for the  _ kill.  _

Obi-Wan kicked the mercenary in the stomach while Triva launched herself off a rock and landed neatly behind them taking her blade and cutting a single line across their throat. The rifle that they had been holding dropped to the ground with a dull  _ thud,  _ the light that had been emanating from it during its charge now gone.

Anakin pressed his shoulder to Obi-Wan’s- just touching, he didn’t even think it was conscious- just something to say he was there, a comfort. Anakin reached out across the bond for him, finally able to run through the merc that they were dealing with.

Mick let out a grunt, and a nasty  _ crack  _ filled the air, Obi-Wan whipped his head to the sound and watched as the ringleader sunk to the ground with a cry. His nose was broken, bent at an odd angle and he could smell the cauterised blaster shot in his leg.

“Please- please don’t hurt me!” He whimpered, cowering away from them, “I’m sorry- Please!” 

Mick looked over at them, eyes trailing over their bodies in search of wounds. When he seemed satisfied they were all okay he stepped around the grunting and pathetic mess on the floor,

“What do we do with him?” He asked, the man was still whimpering on the ground, Obi-Wan made a face,

“We’ll need to take him to the proper authorities…” Triva said, then shook her head, “if there are any on this dustball.”

Obi-Wan was about to answer her when a glint of the sun’s light caught something in the mercenary’s hand. He watched on, helpless as Mick stumbled back, the tip of a vibroblade peeking out from his shirt, staining it red. He sputtered something intelligable, blinking rapidly before falling to his knees.

“No!” Reko cried hoarsely, the same time that Triva let out a shriek, the two smugglers bolted to his side. Obi-Wan lifted his blaster, and Anakin his saber. The leader turned to them with that same cruel smile he had seen on too many people. He was finished with it.

One shot.

Obi-Wan could see sunlight filtering through his forehead like a third eye.

Anakin stared at Obi-Wan, shock turning him pale. He averted his eyes. Obi-Wan knew he should feel guilty. But there were more pressing matters than his conscience. He fell to his knees next to Mick’s body. Triva’s sobs felt like a vice around his throat. The man’s tanned skin was getting paler, and Reko was putting pressure on the wound, muttering that  _ it’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay _ \- but there was blood-  _ so much blood. _

“Speeder, we have a speeder,” The other’s didn’t have to communicate as Anakin and Reko lifted Mick together. Mick’s head was against Reko’s chest. And Obi-Wan was half sure he saw the young man mumble something softly through bloodied lips. He couldn’t make out what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 19 will be the end of the Smuggler’s storyline. It is not the end of part iii.


	19. Not a new chapter

This is not a new chapter, it’s just something i think i should tell you guys before i post any more of this story.

i like my OCs. I created them on a whim and before i knew it they had their own little universe in my head, and i really wanted to keep writing about them!! But some of you don’t want to read about them, and didn’t like them- and yeah i understand that this is an obikin fic, and that’s what you came here to read- but it’s still my story, and it doesn’t matter how nicely you phrase your comments, having your characters that you love called stupid and unlikable and compared to one of the most hated characters in the SW fandom really fuckin sucks. I understand that you may not like the Tatooine Arc, and I have one piece of advice: don’t read it, just be done with it. 

I like my OCs, and it is wrong of me to focus on the bad things instead of the good because a whole lot of you DO like them and i am so pleased that at least someone is as attached as i am. I had no heart to write for a little while, i just wanted to get this fic over and done with or just abandon it completely- but i knew i couldn’t, i have such plans for all of it and i don’t want to give that up just yet. 

Updates will slow down, mainly because i intend to go back and write what i originally planned for Triva, Reko, and Mick. All i ask for is your patience, and hopefully you will enjoy the story i wanted to tell from the start. You have all inspired me, and I thank you guys for that, by the time I post the next chapter i will delete this update, and we can carry on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will be deleted when the next chapter of the story is posted


	20. I Would Put Them Back In Poetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan found a painful nostalgia in the weariness of his movements, ghosts of a time when it was all commonplace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello There.  
> It's nice to be back.  
> I was originally going to make this the last chapter the smugglers would be in, and for a time the last chapter ever. I was going to rush ahead in this story and give up everything I had planned for the sake of people not realising the close window button exists. Good thing I have you guys- and to everyone who believed in me, I want to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart. You have no idea what each and every one of you mean to me and the fact that you are reading this and enjoying it is enough to keep me writing for years to come, I appreciate and love each and every one of you and I should really stop writing now because I'm getting weepy but I've had a glass of wine and am filled with so much love for you all thank you so much.  
> Updates will still be slower because I'm back at school, but they'll keep coming!

Anakin watched as Reko gently placed Mick into the back of the speeder, his head resting on the Twi'lek’s lap. Obi-Wan was next to him in the passenger seat, setting in the coordinates for the Lars family homestead. He punched down on the accelerant, looking behind him at the bloodied body of the smuggler. For a moment a selfish relief washed over him- it wasn’t Obi-Wan, and it wasn’t his mother. It was just a smuggler- someone that was so trivial to him… but he saw the tear tracks on Triva’s cheeks, the way the broken sobs left her body as though they would snap her in two- and the way Reko placed a gentle hand on Mick’s cheek, far too intimate to be checking for wounds, not even trying to hide his own tears. 

It was someone else’s life, yes, but it was a  _ life. _

Anakin sped up.

They reached the farm in record time, hauling Mick’s dead weight into the kitchen with no explanation to the Lars family and his mother. He was growing paler by the minute, his eyes becoming unfocused and slurred words becoming near unintelligible. 

Anakin stood frozen in the doorway, watching how Obi-Wan handled the young man with the same expert-precision that Reko did. For a single, stolen moment- in that space between blinking- Obi-Wan was not the polished and cunning Senator with a mischievous glint in his eye. No, Obi-Wan, even if for only that moment, was a soldier- someone who had seen too much and done this too many times for it not to be committed to muscle memory.

“I need whatever bacta you have- Triva take his shirt off I need to see the damage- shit Micky stay with me.” Reko’s voice was militarian, strong yet breaking. 

Anakin and Obi-Wan started riling through the cupboards, pulling out whatever they could find- Anakin grabbed for bacta and herbs and bandages, not really knowing what would help and what would not beyond his training at the Temple, but handed them to Reko as he set to work prepping the Kitchen table for this in-promptu surgery. 

Triva removed Mick’s shirt- showing the jagged wound where the vibroblade had pierced him. His skin was losing colour and Anakin could see his light dimming, turning from the soft and steady halo around his body into a murky brown, he felt tears sting his eyes as he watched Mick’s very soul scramble onto whatever lifeline he could find and  _ still  _ that selfish little voice inside his head said  _ at least it’s not them, at least it’s not them. _

“Stay with me Mick,” Triva whispered, smoothing back the dark hair on his head- Obi-Wan handed the last of the medical supplies to Reko, who set to work immediately. Anakin stood beside Obi-Wan, feeling utterly useless as he watched them move around. He was never one for healing- he had the basic training the Temple gave everyone- but he didn’t know  _ how  _ to help. He couldn’t console, words got stuck in his mouth every time he saw Mick’s face, imagining it was Obi-Wan or his mother in his place. 

The bond between them was silent- and Obi-Wan’s mouth was drawn in a tight line as Reko began stitching the wound, murmuring reassuring things to Mick- whose colour was slowly coming back to him, albeit very,  _ very  _ slowly. 

Anakin was pulled from his thoughts by a cough from the doorway. Shmi was staring wide eyed at her son and his colourful companions currently smearing blood all over the kitchen table. His heart stopped as images from his nightmares taunted him in broad daylight, his mother’s eyes remained wide even as Obi-Wan gave her an apologetic look. He rushed towards her, letting his hand brush over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, who nodded to him, sending an  _ it’s okay  _ through to the bond.

Shmi hugged herself, pulling her cardigan tightly around her shoulders, “Ani what’s going on? Is he okay? Who is he?”

Anakin quickly recounted everything that happened. He didn’t know exactly how to phrase the crew’s history with him and Obi-Wan, there was nothing to really explain the odd friendship the Senator had struck with them during his time as their captor.

He felt a little light headed after getting it all out. Shmi had her hand over her mouth, she looked at the entrance to the kitchen, then back at her son. She opened her mouth to say something when Obi-Wan appeared in the doorway, looking a little worse for wear, 

“He’s going to be okay.” He breathed. “The blade didn’t hit any internal organs.” 

Anakin let out a sigh, so did his mother. The three of them made their way back into the kitchen, the night had come now and the lights sent ghastly shadows that only emphasised the horror of the kitchen table. Mick was laying on his back, only half awake. He was talking to Reko, well not talking but… communicating. Reko was asking all manner of medical questions Anakin couldn’t bring himself to understand. But it was going to be okay.

He felt Obi-Wan press into his side, just his shoulder- but it was a grounding contact that Anakin hadn’t known he’d needed. He thanked the Force that Mick was okay- but thanked it more that it wasn’t anyone he loved in his place.

~

The Lars family were very perturbed when they found their kitchen had been turned into a medbay. Though deep in his heart Obi-Wan couldn’t really bring himself to care. Mick was still half-unconscious, and they were all exhausted to the bone. Obi-Wan found a painful nostalgia in the weariness of his movements, ghosts of a time when it was all commonplace. When he would not complain about the ache in his back or the labouring of his breaths.

If he closed his eyes he could still feel the mud under his boot, hear the battlecries of his men and the sonic screech of blaster fire.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at Mick, the dark hair and tan skin too close to familiar. He had scarcely thought about his troops, not  _ wanting  _ to remember his troops, his men, his  _ friends.  _ He didn’t want to look at Mick and see Cody, or Waxer, or Boil, or  _ any of them _ because he knew, he knew that mere lightyears away were his brothers in arms that had no idea what was coming.

He felt selfish- because he  _ should  _ remember them. Remember the men they were and everything they meant to him and to the Republic. He should remember the bark of Fives’ laugh and the terrible jokes Rex would tell to get Cody to laugh. He should remember Waxer and Boil and how they would accidentally adopt every child they saw.

He should remember the nights when he and Cody would not speak, but sit next to each other on the floor of the bridge in silence, just  _ being  _ there. He should remember the glint in Cody’s eye when he’d hand him back his lightsaber, and the muttered  _ this weapon is your life-- sir.  _

But he couldn’t.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, catching Anakin’s eye and the puzzled gaze that came with it. That raised another question- when would he tell the truth? Obi-Wan had grown sloppy, he’d been so careful for so long, and now in the mere presence of Anakin he found himself at a loss for what to do- this young man, so tumultuous, so passionate and bright- was his doom. Obi-Wan thought he had made peace with the way he died, thought he could separate the two Anakins- but he couldn’t. They were the same person, the fire in his eyes earlier had been a wake-up call. This was still  _ Anakin  _ at his core. His face may shift and change a thousand times but the soul is everlasting.

Secrets are what drove a wedge between them in the first place- well, that and Palpatine. But Obi-Wan was loathe to let that happen again… and maybe, at the right time. 

~

Obi-Wan found himself awake that night again. Sleep hated him, he decided, staring up at the sandy yellow ceiling. It was freezing, and the ever-present buzz of the sandflies felt like a symphony of impending doom. Eventually he scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to muffle a discomforted groan as he trudged to the kitchen for tea. Half of him hoped to see Shmi there again, for them to go into more depth about their incoming rendezvous, but Obi-Wan knew it was impossible. Mick was still on the kitchen table, laying flat on his back- but what surprised him more was that while Triva had taken her leave to go and sleep- Reko was propped up in the chair, head lolling forwards. He hadn’t moved.

Obi-Wan decided that tea wasn’t important, and instead turned on his heel towards the front door- maybe the cold night air would help him clear his mind.

It did not.

It was cold, and cold, and kriffing  _ freezing.  _ He wondered for a moment how he had survived here for all those years. A part of him knew that Obi-Wan didn’t leave Mustafar, no, Obi-Wan Kenobi died that day along with the Aankin of that time. Ben Kenobi had lived on Tatooine. He didn’t know if he could ever go back to being him.

Obi-Wan shut his eyes, trying to slip into meditation. The wind was nonexistent but that was no problem- he pulled it from the cold, dry expanse, moving the air around him like a blanket. The Force washed over him in a way that was familiar and completely new at the same time, it felt like the sunlight that filtered through the trees at the Temple, or the laugh of the younglings as they sparred and- and it felt like the tightness in his chest when Anakin hugged him, and the rising flare of the bond when he was around. It was Padme’s smile after they’d just passed a successful bill, and the twinkle in Bail’s eye when he told a joke.

It had been a long time since he’d been Ben Kenobi. It had been a long time since he’d felt like  _ Obi-Wan  _ Kenobi.

He was not a separate person either, he realised with the tiniest twitch of a smile; he was the same person, the same soul- but he was more. This was a patchwork of old and new, light and dark- just like everyone.

This was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

And he had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just as a nice little thing- I'm currently working on a project with some other ocs!! it's not refined or even close to ready, but I'm enjoying it, and eventually I hope you will too.


	21. All This Heaven Never Could Describe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The light was not a wall but an all-encompassing feeling. The glass was not there to block-- they were memories, images, fragments in time- with people familiar and unfamiliar trapped inside them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello There  
> I started school again, which ate up a lot of my time, but it's currently almost 2am and this is unedited because I am so excited to post this chapter, we're starting to get into the meat of the story, and I've decided that just to spite the haters we will be seeing the smugglers again after the Tatooine Arc, I have plans for them, and I have plans for this story- I just hope you enjoy.

“I’m going to die.” 

“Good morning to you too, Anakin.” 

Anakin pouted, his hair still ruffled and his eyes still bleary as he marched into the kitchen and yanked the caf machine towards him. Mick raised an eyebrow, watching as the young man somehow made making a cup of caf look violent.

“Drills! He wants me to do drills! Does he know what time it is!?” He muttered under his breath. Mick tried not to chuckle, knowing it would disturb his stitches

“Oh how that must wound you.”

_ “I know.” _

Mick really did chuckle that time. He knew the stitches would take a while to heal, but they’d be able to get everything they needed before heading back to the ship. The old thing needed a tune up and their pay for the hangar only lasted a few more days. Mick didn’t know Anakin as well as he knew Obi-Wan- well, if knowing someone correlates to having them tied up in your cargo hold- but the premise of friendship is there, and to be honest the man could be a deity in disguise for all he knew, and you know what? He wouldn’t question it. These weirdos seemed to be in the right place at the right time. As long as he lived, that was fine with him.

“What do you, hoodoo Jedi-types do? I’ve always been a little fuzzy.”  _ Oh sure Micky, lie your ass off.  _

“We meditate and keep the peace.”  _ Bullshit. _

“I thought the Jedi were generals- they used to be at least, fighting for the good of the republic and the people.”

“We do that too, there’s always someone to help, we’re taught compassion for those in need and stuff,”

“I thought the Jedi weren’t supposed to have emotions.”

“We are and we aren’t- they tend to blur the lines- we have to care about people, but not let it consume us, and we have to… we have to learn when to let go, even when it’s hardest.”

“Weren’t there Jedi that had families?”

Anakin blinked, clearly delving into his own personal archives to find out who had gotten laid in the Temple recently.

“We- we aren’t supposed to.”

Mick chuckled, “ironic.” He muttered softly, but Anakin still seemed able to hear him, he opened his mouth to ask when another figure appeared in the doorway. Triva was still ruffled from sleep, and her lekku were draped over her shoulders in the same way they used to when she was younger. Mick shot her a winning smile,

“What’s up, buttercup?” He wiggled an eyebrow,

“You were stabbed yesterday-  _ how  _ are you so cheerful?” Her tone was exasperated, but she came and squeezed his hand all the same. Mick was glad to see her alright, that nothing terrible had happened while he had been incapacitated. Anakin was still violently hoarding the caf machine, dark bags under his eyes from not getting his Jedi-Recommended eight hours sleep. Not like anyone had been stabbed or anything though right? Mick wasn’t bitter or angry at the young Jedi, not in the slightest, in fact he found Anakin rather amusing- his youth and flair for the dramatics reminding him of himself at that age. Not that he was old or anything.

“Near death experiences do that to you.” He told his sister, Reko was still dead to the world next to him, still in the same clothes as yesterday but Triva… 

“What in fuck’s name are you wearing?” 

Triva turned up her nose, “Beru gave me some clothes to wear,” Mick raised an eyebrow, to which her reply was the juvenile but still effective

“Shut it, laserbrain.”

“Who’s a laserbrain?” came a groggy voice, Mick’s heart jumped in his chest as Reko’s hand tightened its grip. Mick squeezed back, letting him know he was there. That he was safe.

“My idiot brother.” Triva stated, getting up and joining Anakin by the kitchen counter- he looked marginally better than when he had entered, as if the caf had magical properties that made young jedi bright eyed and bushy tailed with only a few magical sips. 

“Micky!” Mick blinked and suddenly Reko was blocking out everyone else, the worry in his eyes shining through as the Zabrak lunged for fresh bandages. Carefully going over where the wound was still stark and puckered against his skin. He smiled despite himself, and caught Skywalker staring at the three of them. There was something in his eyes, something soft and knowing in a way that contrasted his usual sensibility. Micky knew they were an odd bunch, but there was something in Anakin’s eyes, like he knew exactly how odd they were. Understood it. 

  
  


~

Obi-Wan waited at the top of the cliff’s edge, staring out over the Dune Sea and feeling as though the wind was carrying his heart along with it- it wasn’t a bad feeling, per se. It was nice, in a way he couldn't quite describe; so often he had imagined Anakin walking over one of those dunes, to scowl or smile at him- he would have taken either, really. But Anakin was behind him now, Obi-Wan had felt his presence coming from the slopes- heard him too.  _ Sand, sand, sand.  _ Obi-Wan chuckled, in no life would Anakin ever like sand.

“Okay, you’ve officially brought me to the eighth circle of hell.” The padawan said through laboured breaths.

“Not the ninth?” Obi-Wan tittered, “We should climb a little higher then-”

“Fucking hell Obi-Wan no!” 

Obi-Wan threw his head back in a laugh, finally turning to face the young man. As much peace as his return to Tatooine had brought him he was starting to feel old again, his bones ached too much for twenty-seven. 

“What are we doing here anyway?” He asked, brushing his hands on his robes, Obi-Wan beckoned him forward, leading him to the edge, Anakin followed happily, eyes shining with curiosity. 

“The bond is… unusual,” he began, a smirk forming on his lips that might have been a touch too close to wicked, “I was thinking we could see what we can do with it.” 

Anakin smiled, “What first?”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, “meditation, of course,”

He was sure Shmi heard the young man’s groan all the way from the farmstead.

~

“Stop fidgeting, Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s voice cut through his concentration,

“Sorry m-” he choked on the word  _ Master.  _ So used to saying it to the other Jedi at the temple, he felt a faint blush crawl up his neck, “sorry Obi-Wan.” He squeezed his eyes shut, partly to block out the embarrassment that threatened to make him curl inward on himself. He reached for the bond again. Lightly at first, featherlight brushes of one mind against the other… He wanted to understand what it was, what  _ Obi-Wan  _ was. There was more to this than just a normal training bond. It was right in front of him, a blurring mess of lights he couldn't squint past. He pushed harder, trying to dim the lights, force them to move so he could see what they were hiding. Nothing. Nothing. They grew brighter and brighter the more he tried. They condensed until there was nothing but a wall, like painted glass that floated all around him, blocking everything else out.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan said again, “Don't try and look past it. Look  _ at  _ it.”

Anakin relaxed, ever so. The lights don't dim, they don't move or change but he stopped trying to  _ move  _ them, dim them. Instead he reached out, he moved his hand and suddenly- it broke. The light was not a wall but an all-encompassing feeling. The glass was not there to block-- they were memories, images, fragments in time- with people familiar and unfamiliar trapped inside them. Anakin felt soft ground beneath him, the shift of what felt like sand, the cold press of mountain air. He pushed again, feeling the matching sway of Obi-Wan against him. It was that- it was the bond, everything. Before he knew it he was running- he didn't know how- he hadn't moved, but he was running, running through light. Glimpses of people he had never seen before, of people he had known since he was young. Moments and memories that glinted back at him like jewels.

He stopped as he reached what appeared to be the middle. A single fragment hung there.One of him, how he must have looked the first time they met. Anakin examined it further, and it changed. It was his perspective now- how Obi-Wan had looked then.

“It’s-” he started,

“Beautiful.” Obi-Wan finished for him. Anakin didn’t have to say anything- he knew he felt his agreement. If that is what the bond between the two of them looked like- then there was nowhere more beautiful in the galaxy. No supernova or star could ever compare to what Anakin was staring at; this metaphysical plane of his and Obi-Wan’s souls bound together in some miracle of the Force-

Nothing would ever,  _ ever  _ compare.

Obi-Wan was the first to withdraw- but it wasn’t cold, not like Anakin expected. It was as if he hadn't left at all. Anakin opened his eyes, surprised to see tear tracks down Obi-Wan’s cheeks,

“I’ve never heard of anything like that.” He said softly, 

Obi-Wan took a moment to reply, “you’ll be the death of me, Anakin,” he whispered, as though he weren’t talking to him at all. Anakin blinked, a little surprised, but he couldn't find anything malicious in the statement.

“What do you think it is?” Anakin asked, the light of early afternoon was waning, drifting into the pale reds and golds of the coming sundown. Obi-Wan hummed, his blue eyes glittering with curiosity and- excitement? 

“It’s a dyad.” He said, 

“A what now?” 

Obi-Wan laughed brightly at the confused look on Anakin’s face, “a bond, stronger than a training bond- something that binds two people together- oh don't look at me like that Qui-Gon must have given you the history lesson,”

“You really think I listened to him?” He asked flatly, Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, 

“I think I have something on it, but in essence it’s powerful, it’s-”

“A sign that we’ve got to stick together.” Anakin finished, then his eyes widened- “we aren’t going to do the creepy talking in unison thing are we? Because Aayla already forced me to watch all the scary holovids I can handle- stop laughing!” 

But Obi-Wan didn’t, and instead gripped his stomach, apparently the mental image of Anakin shitting himself watching old horror-Holos was too much for him to bear. 

~

Anakin should really have been asleep- but he wasn’t. There was too much on his mind- about Obi-Wan, his duties, all of it. They had another four days left on Tatooine before they had to go back to Coruscant for the final hearing about the Military Act. He got out of bed, careful not to step on Obi-Wan-

But he wasn’t there.

His bed roll was empty and his slippers were too. Anakin frowned, hearing whispers coming from the kitchen. Mick had been moved to the sofa in the other room so he could be more comfortable, so it couldn't have been  _ him  _ and Obi-Wan. 

He followed the sound of hushed voices, and the closer he got he realised it was his mother and Obi-Wan, huddled under the dim light of a lamp, talking over a datapad full of what he could see from the crack in the door were coordinates and names and hyperlane routes. Obi-Wan was pointing out various lines of code- he strained his ears to hear-

“-safest place we’ve been able to meet, that we won’t be recognised anyway.” Obi-Wan’s voice got quieter, and Anakin leaned further in, “-suggested that we go to Mek-Sha, but I don’t think we can risk getting in the middle of a turf war.”

Shmi pursed her lips, “What about Takodana?” Obi-Wan seemed to consider it for a minute,

“That could work- and I’m sure the Pirate Queen would be sym-” he cut himself off, straightening his back and staring wide eyed at Anakin’s mother.

“Would you like to come in, Ani?” Obi-Wan asked, turning to face him through the crack in the door. Anakin swallowed, and sheepishly stepped into the dim light.

“I-I’m sorry.” He felt like a scolded child, Obi-Wan’s expression softened, 

“It’s alright, I don’t think I could have kept it from you for much longer.” He gestured to the third seat at the table, Anakin took it, feeling trepidation rise up in his chest as his eyes flicked between the two of them. 

“What is it?” His eyes narrowed. He knew there had been more to Obi-Wan than he really let on, his stomach gave a twist as Obi-Wan glanced at Shmi, 

“I think I’m done keeping secrets for one lifetime.” He chuckled mirthlessly, as though he’d just made a hilarious joke only he understood. “I’ve been gone because I’m recruiting people to a cause… an Alliance of sorts, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” Anakin sat forward, scowling- what the fuck? A cause? What the hell did that mean?

Obi-Wan swallowed, and for the first time he actually looked nervous. “The Chancellor is connected to the Sith Lord, the one the Council has been hunting for the past ten years. I’ve been gathering people- people who can help me uncover the truth.”

Anakin felt a lump form in his throat, it was impossible- it was- it was… unthinkable. He scrunched his face, uncertainty pulling his legs out from under him. He took a deep breath,

“It- it can’t be.” He said through gritted teeth, “the Chancellor is a good man.” Those words felt… off in his mouth, like trying to bite into stale bread. Obi-Wan paused for a moment,

“I know you trust him, Anakin, and I know that this compromises-”

“I trust you.” Anakin said blankly, meaning every word. The Chancellor might well be a good man, but if Obi-Wan had reason to doubt that, then there must be a reason- he might not understand it now, but he trusted Obi-Wan to do the right thing. 

“W-what?” Obi-Wan visibly deflated, blinking rapidly in a way that would have been comical if not for the situation.

“When it comes down to it, Obi-Wan, I’ll always pick you.” Anakin said, “we can figure it out together, I trust you.”

Obi-Wan didn't reply for a minute, just stared dumbly at him, as though he couldn’t believe Anakin could possibly be more devoted to him. As if in the short amount of time they’d been back in each other’s company Anakin hadn't completely and utterly pledged every loyalty to him. And you know what? He’d do it again. Whatever the Force was doing, it brought them together for a reason. 

The conversation ended after that, Obi-Wan didn’t say much more than a distracted thank you before Shmi shooed them off to get some rest. He lay there, staring at the ceiling and feeling the tumultuous emotions stir in his chest, frothing and scared. He trusted Obi-Wan, that’s what he had to focus on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Mags


	22. In The Dark, I Can Hear Your Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan’s memory still burned with the glow of Anakin’s laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM DOING THIS FROM MY PHONE SO FORGIVE ANY MISTAKES  
> also HELLO THERE
> 
> HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN A WHILE
> 
> HOW ARE YOU?????
> 
> okay so updates:
> 
> Lockdown III, fun times   
> chapters will be more frequent but shorter, 1k or so (that also means more chapters lmao) because trying to do 4k chapters is tiring as hell
> 
> YOUR COMMENTS HAVE MADE ME CRY!!!!! YOU GUYS ARE SO KIND!!! AND THE SMUGGLERS ARE GONNA STICK AROUND FOR A WHILE (and come back,,, mayhaps mayhaps)
> 
> i love you all, and stay safe 🥺

Mick was healed enough to make the trip back to Anchorhead, and Obi-Wan commended Triva on her patience because if that man said  _ are we there yet  _ one more  _ fucking  _ time he was going to open the speeder door, punt him into the road and leave him for the sleens. 

“You should see the new ship, Senator, she’s a little beat up, but she’s the fastest ship in the galaxy!” Triva said brightly, oh and how Obi-Wan hadn’t heard that before. 

Ironically Obi-Wan hadn’t spent much time in Anchorhead, only every so often he would come to the markets to see the new spiced teas, and it had hardly changed at all. The sun was high in the sky when they arrived, the stone walls of the city broken by the towering archways that cast long shadows down the roads. The mingling of shouts and voices from the spaceport and markets mixed together in a muddlement of languages from basic to huttese to some Obi-Wan couldn’t even make out. He smiled, listening as Reko shouted at Mick to stop poking at his stomach.

“If you can’t walk, let Reko carry you.” Triva sighed, Anakin snorted as Mick perked up,

“Is that an option?” He turned his attention to the Zabrak, who glared at a smirking Triva and scooped Mick up like a damsel in distress. 

“You see it too?” Obi-Wan muttered to Triva as the two walked over to the hangar, Triva let out a cackle, patting him on the shoulder good-naturedly,

“Oh  _ please,  _ I’ve been seeing it since we were nineteen.” Anakin chuckled next to him, “I know that Mick won’t like the idea of staying behind but we should have a few drinks tonight, we need it after all that and I can show Skywalker the new ship.”

Anakin perked up, excited at the prospect, Obi-Wan momentarily feared what would happen if he left the two of them alone together on an unattended ship. He shuddered at the thought of such chaos. The three of them chatted as they made their way to the hangar. Obi-Wan was actually starting to relax a little when Triva let out a little squeal at the sight of her ship- and what a ship it was- a real freighter- a-

“Isn’t she a  _ beaut?!” _

Obi-Wan let out a sound like a wounded animal, the sheer  _ absurdity,  _ the  _ audacity  _ of the Force to fuck with him in so many ways in such a short time was  _ astronomical.  _ But wait- maybe it wasn’t, maybe this was a different freighter, one that wasn’t at all  _ that  _ one, because there was no way in the galaxy that it had to be that one. It wasn’t. It was a different ship. It was- It was-

“The  _ Millenium Falcon!”  _ Reko called from the ramp. Obi-Wan choked down a muffled sob. He knew it was too good to hope for anything else. He had no idea  _ how  _ it came into their possession, nor how it would come into the possession of a snarky young man and a wookiee within the next twenty years. The goddamn thing didn't even look like it would  _ last  _ another twenty years.

“We are  _ not  _ calling it that!” Triva shouted back to him,

“Oh no,” Obi-Wan humoured, “I think it suits it,”

_ “See  _ Trivvy!  _ He  _ agrees with me!”

Obi-Wan could really use that drink.

The  _ Millennium Falcon  _ conundrum continued to plague him no matter how many drinks he seemed to down. Though that might’ve just been the caterwauling Anakin and Mick called karaoke. Yeah, it was definitely that. The suns had set over Anchorhead in the past hour, filling the city with a haze of cool night air that masked the sting of sand whipping at their faces as the quartet stumbled out of the cantina. Obi-Wan could hold his spotchka. He could. He  _ definitely  _ wasn’t drunk. Why was Tatooine on its side? 

Obi-Wan, ever the observational one, realised  _ he  _ was on his side. 

there was also someone on top of him. 

He forced his brain to focus long enough to see the dopey grin of Anakin Skywalker staring back at him, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling in the dim, hazy light that emanated from the lanterns around them. He found himself struggling to blink, struggling to look away, to  _ breathe.  _ His heart climbed to his throat and Anakin would not stop looking at him like- like- like  _ however he was looking at him _ . 

The world started spinning again when Triva let out a yelp, the two men whipped their heads towards the noise and Obi-Wan was suddenly  _ very  _ aware of how close they were. Anakin’s padawan braid hung over his shoulder, and for a moment Obi-Wan wanted everything to stand still again as Anakin rolled off him and landed flat on his back in the sand. 

“I don’t like sand.” He whined. “It’s coarse and rough and—“ he wiggled with a grimace “—gets everywhere.” 

Obi-Wan snorted. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” The two of them started giggling, rosy cheeked and sweet. Triva and Reko were above them, smiles wider and wider the more Obi-Wan looked at them. The cold night air didn’t bother him much now. The sand in his clothes didn’t itch, his head wasn’t spinning. All he could hear was Anakin’s laughter, how he had  _ missed it _ . He briefly closed his eyes and knew that wherever the other Obi-Wan was… he was smiling too. 

  
  


The next morning was  _ not  _ pretty. Anakin and Triva took turns heaving up into the fresher at regular intervals. Obi-Wan nursed his throbbing headache by glaring into his caf. Reko lay face down in the middle of the galley mimicking the mating call of a krayt dragon while Mick sat smugly over them all on his little hill of sobriety. (Obi-Wan did not miss the way Mick wordlessly set a cup of caf next to Reko’s head, nor the way his eyes softened when the man looked up and muttered a soft  _ ‘thank you’  _ to him). He was still fuzzy on the details of the night before, but Obi-Wan’s memory still burned with the glow of Anakin’s laughter, which, regrettably, was cut by the hacking sounds coming from down the hallway. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to the Queer Choas discord for kicking my ass into gear 
> 
> also yes i’m 100% saying that the smugglers were the previous owners of the Falcon because i can

**Author's Note:**

> come o' hollerin' at me on tumblr [@flyboy-and-fight-me](https://flyboy-and-fight-me.tumblr.com//)
> 
> toss a comment to your writer! 
> 
> stay home, stay safe, love you all


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